


Distant Stars

by StarfleetAcademia



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Androids, Angst, Anxiety, Each chapter is supposed to feel like its own episode, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert, References to Canon, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn, Story starts somewhere around season 2 or 3, tries to fit within canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26883115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarfleetAcademia/pseuds/StarfleetAcademia
Summary: You are still recovering from your tragic experience aboard the U.S.S. Meridian, but have been reassigned to the Enterprise. Can you keep up with the incredible and capable minds that now surround you or will the pressure snuff you out like a distant star?This story is a "Reader-Insert" Fic about an officer who is recovering from a great loss. The reader forms meaningful relationships with many of the characters in TNG. The narrative will eventually lead to a romantic relationship with Data. I aim to write this story in such a way that each chapter feels like a Star Trek episode. While there is lots of romance up ahead, this is first and foremost a sci-fi story. My hope is that you find the over-arching plot of "your" character worthwhile.Engage.
Relationships: Data (Star Trek)/Reader
Comments: 21
Kudos: 59





	1. Tall Order

Chapter One:  
Tall Order

The lights stung your eyes as the overheads illuminated from above.  
  
“Have you been here all night?” A man asked accusatory as he sauntered into the lab.  
  
It was clear from the state of yourself and your station that you had indeed been working all night, and therefore you found it unnecessary to respond. However, as the man was a superior officer you could not allow his question to hang in the air.  
  
“I must have lost track of time,” you replied, rubbing your eyes as you turned in your chair to face him.  
  
“While I appreciate your dedication to your research, Lieutenant, I would think it prudent that you prepare yourself for you new assignment rather than toying with your-- your gadgets,” he said gesturing at your desk which was covered in a wide array hand tools, cables, and metallic doodads.  
  
He wasn’t wrong you had a big day ahead of you, and it was very important that you make a good impression. You looked at the mess on your desk fondly. A small part of you was going to miss engineering in the relatively safe confines of the starbase, but the prospect of challenges you’d face on Starfleet’s flagship filled you with a palpable curiosity.  
  
“Yes, Admiral. I know—You’re right. I’m going to shower make myself presentable just as soon as I put my hand back together,” you responded and lifted your arm. You grinned and waved at him, the forearm of your uniform flapping at him, while metal pieces on your desk began to twitch.  
  
He sighed at you and rubbed his forehead. “y/n, what am I going to do with you?”  
  
You noticed a faint smirk of amusement on his face as he pulled up a chair beside you, however, that was quickly replaced with a much more serious look. “How’s the pain?” He asked.  
  
You pulled your shirt sleeve back and looked at the small cables and prongs jutting out from the midsection of your forearm. It was strange how present your mechanical hand still felt to you even though it laid in pieces on your desk.  
  
“It mostly doesn’t hurt anymore. I get some inflammation where the prosthetic meets my skin, but other than that it functions well enough. I’m just making some modifications to loosen the joints so I can move it more freely”  
  
“Are you nervous about the assignment?” He asked leaning in a bit closer and resting a hand on your shoulder.  
  
You shrugged away from him and began tinkering and reconnecting the wiring on your desk.  
  
“No one would blame you for being nervous, y/n. I’m just looking out for you,” he said reassuringly.  
  
You peered up at him for a moment revealing the apprehension in your eyes. “I know, and yes I’m nervous, but not for the reason you think.”  
  
“What happened on the U.S.S. Meridian was not your fault,” he said gently in an attempt to dispel your fears.  
  
“We really don’t need to talk about this right now,” you replied. “Snap this white wire into that module for me,” you said gesturing at your desk.  
  
He picked up a pair of pliers and went to work as instructed. “I’m just trying to say that everything will be okay, and if you need to shake off some anxiety, now would be a good time.”  
  
You were quiet for a moment as you looked at him. You admired his face as he concentrated on putting pieces back together with just enough force to hold everything in place, but gently enough not to break anything, the same approach he had for just about everything in his life. You realized how much you were going to miss him.  
  
“I’m nervous because...because this isn’t just any assignment on any ship,” you spoke finally. “This is the Enterprise.”  
  
He nodded. “It’s a tall order.”  
  
“What if I fail? What if I let everyone down? What if I--”  
  
“Then you will grow,” he interrupted. “You are not defined by your mistakes, but how you respond to them.” There was a satisfying click as the joints of your fingers came together again. “Is this why you took apart your hand?”  
  
You nodded taking in the magnitude of his words. “I wanted to make sure everything was working perfectly.” You slid your forearm into place and let him reattach your hand. All the pieces came together in a beautiful geometry. You lifted your mechanical hand and wriggled your fingers, testing the joints.  
  
“This is probably one of your best designs,” He said and took your hand in his. Your sensors felt the warmth of his hand as he laced his fingers between yours. “For what it’s worth kid, the Enterprise is lucky to have you.”  
  
You smiled softly. “Thank you, Admiral.”  
  
“How about just, Dad for right now.” He said and pulled you into a warm hug. You wrapped your arms around him, buried your face in his barrel of a chest, and tried with all your might to commit this moment to memory. You were going to miss this. 

–

When the docking bay doors opened you could barely contain your excitement. While you certainly hadn’t rested at all since the morning, it barely mattered. You were far too stimulated by the possibilities that lay ahead of you aboard the Enterprise.  
  
The docking bay was abuzz with a rainbow of officers moving to and fro to fulfill their duties, directing cargo and personnel to their designated locations. The hum of all the action made you impossibly giddy, but you also recognized the somber tone in the air and felt a little ashamed to be feeling even a little happy at a time like this.  
  
The Enterprise had been docked outside the starbase for the day to unload cargo as well as to drop off a group of human colonists from the planet Vloth. Their planet had been experiencing alarming tectonic distress and they needed to evacuate to the nearest starbase. The colonists had been subjected to quakes that left many injured and all of them displaced. They were fortunate that their distress signal was intercepted by the Enterprise which was in the area and had the capacity to hold the mass majority of the small planet’s citizens. Your father was currently meeting with the delegates from Vloth to provide what aid Starfleet could. You couldn’t help but feel grateful that he came to see you in the morning, or else you may not have had the opportunity to say goodbye before your departure.  
  
However, you felt almost silly thinking about it as you passed by people who had literally just lost their homes and loved ones. It seemed like such an impossible pain to carry. How does one truly recover from such a tragedy? You couldn’t really know, but still, as silly as it may be, you took some solace in having said goodbye to your father. Your job now was to check-in with your commanding officer and begin helping where you were most needed.  
  
There was a group of science and medical officers with the colonists, gathering information about their planet and caring for the injured. It was unusually chaotic to be treating patients in the docking bay, but for the sheer number of people being treated and that there was only so much available space on the starbase it was absolutely vital. You admired the other officers for their composure and resolve amidst what seemed a bit disorderly. This moment impressed on you the severity and the magnitude of your new assignment.  
  
A woman in a medical uniform approached you with some haste  
  
“Engineering right?” She said noting your gold uniform.  
  
“Uh-yes,” you replied.  
  
“I need some help with this equipment over here,” she said turning on her heels and walking back toward the colonists.  
  
You hesitated for just a moment before snapping into action and following after her.  
  
There were rows of gurneys filled with patients requiring attention. All available medical officers from the docked ships were lending a hand where they could.  
  
“It’s been shorting on me all day,” she said gesturing to the blood-analyzer unit at her side.  
  
“Let me take a look,” you said; you knew that she undoubtedly needed this equipment running to test blood for emergency transfusions. You nodded politely to the shell-shocked colonist on the gurney beside you before you leaned down toward the analyzer. You removed the silicone glove from your hand to allow your robotic instruments to move freely.  
  
The medical officer behind you watched you with some surprise as a screwdriver-like instrument protruded from the tip of your finger. You easily popped the casing off the blood-analyzer and went to work assessing the issue.  
  
“No need for alarm, we’ll have you back in tip-top shape in no time,” she said, turning her attention back to her patient., seemingly unfazed by you.  
  
You looked through the compartment for any loose wiring before flipping a switch on your hand. There was a mechanical clicking noise as your index finger switched between screwdriver and key.  
  
You placed the key into the analyzer’s diagnostics port. In a flash you began reading the output of the machine, data dancing across your eyes.  
  
“That’s quite the equipment you have,” the medical officer commented. “You must be Lieutenant L/N.”  
  
“Ah-yes, it’s a form of integrated cybernetic tech I designed when I lost my hand,” you replied as you finished the diagnostic.  
  
“And it allows you to neurally integrate with a computer?”  
  
“In a way, it’s really more of a glorified heads-up display,” you replied simply. “The analyzer should be working now if you’d like to test it out. There seemed to be a conflict in the software. The reinstall I performed should fix any issues.” You stood up and began carefully sliding the silicone glove back onto your hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t properly introduce myself. I’m Lieutenant Y/N.”  
  
“Thank you very much, Lieutenant. I’m Dr. Pulaski.” She said taking your hand and shaking it firmly. “I suppose you’re eager to board the Enterprise.”  
  
“Very much so.” You nodded. “assuming I’m not needed here…”  
  
“No, I’m certain your commanding officer is expecting you,” she said in a stern voice, but you noticed there was a shred of warmth to her.  
  
“I look forward to working with you, Dr. Pulaski,” you said politely before turning to her patient. “You’re in good hands,” you said reassuringly, before heading off toward the docking corridor.  
  
“Oh, and Lieutenant,” Dr. Pulaski called after you.  
  
You turned to face her once more.  
  
“I’d like to take a look at the hand some time,” she said with a curious grin.  
  
“Absolutely,” you called back to her before heading on your way.

Your heartbeat quickened as you approached the corridor that would lead you to your new home. Normally you would have been beamed to the transporter room, but under the circumstances, it seemed wise to enter the ship in a somewhat archaic fashion. You went through the hallway where impossibly large metal doors stood before you with the Starfleet insignia emblazoned on them. They slid open as you approached, revealing a turbolift.  
  
“Engineering,” You called out and were met with a whoosh of lights and movement as you were transported to your desired location.  
  
When the doors opened again, you were greeted with a beautiful array of colors. Reds, blues, golds, lights, and uniforms stood out all around you. The ambient hum of the warp core and it’s beautiful whirling blue light-filled you with a sense of excitement and wonder, like the first time you had ever put on your uniform, or the first time you had ever set foot on a distant planet. So many amazing discoveries and problems to be solved were now on your horizon, and you could not wait to begin.  
  
As you circled the warp core you heard a jovial voice call out to you from the upper level.  
  
“Let me guess. My new System Ops engineer,” the man said with an impossibly bright smile as he slid down the ladder and walked toward you. “Lieutenant Y/N?” He asked knowingly. “I’m Geordi La Forge, Chief Engineer.”  
  
You were immediately taken aback by how friendly he seemed. “Hi, yes, I’m Y/N. It’s good to finally meet you,” you said extending your hand to him.  
  
He warmly took your hand in both of his. “Well, welcome to my domain,” he said gesturing proudly at the expanse of the corridor. “It’s good to have you aboard.”  
  
He began confidently walking between stations and you quickly followed after him. “Right now, we’ve been trying to get systems back online. The emergency evac of Vloth pretty much ran the well dry,” he said while scanning the visual displays.  
  
“Where do you need me?” you asked as confidently as you could.  
  
His smile beamed at you. “If you’re ready to be put to work...The propulsion amplifyer is offline since we had to divert emergency power to the transporters. It made going to warp next to impossible.”  
  
“I see. I’ll run a diagnostic and get it up and running.”  
  
“Alright. I can tell I’m in good hands,” he said patting your shoulder. “I’ll check back later. If you have any trouble you can report to me or to Commander Data whose the head of sys ops.”  
  
With that, he was off down the hall, leaving you in the warp core with two other engineers who were busily working at their stations.  
  
You walked around the warp core, getting a lay of the land before ascending the ladder to the upper level to find the unit you needed to begin work. It was immediately obvious where you needed to start. Clearly, Commander La Forge ran a tight ship down in Engineering. Everything was organized in an orderly and logical way, and you appreciated that a great deal. You got to work quickly, wanting to get the job done fast yet precisely. It was of utmost importance to you that you make a good impression, and you learned early in your Starfleet career that there was no better way to do so than to just simply do a good job in half the time it takes anyone else. 

\---

It took you the better half of an hour to replace the cabling that had burned out during the emergency power reroute and to divert power back to the amplifyer. Your eyes were entrenched in code when a voice called to you from below.  
  
“Lieutenant Y/N”  
You looked over the railing to peer down, your eyes still sifting through the programming as you looked. Geordi stood just below with another figure at his side.  
  
“Yes, Commander?” you responded; your mechanical hand still typing in mid-air making the necessary corrections to the stream of data.  
  
“Lt. Commander Data, tells me you have a background in bioengineering.”  
  
Your eyes went dark as your heads-up-display dissipated from view and you removed your key from the unit’s port and clicked it back into your index finger. “Yes, sir, but not extensively,” you said while picking yourself up from the station and heading down the ladder.  
  
“Upon notice of your assignment to the Enterprise, I took the liberty of reading your Starfleet personnel file as well as your interwoven research into cybernetics and bioengineering. It is undeniable that you have made many advancements in the field of biomechanics, even if you do not value your contributions.” The man who spoke was unlike any you had ever seen. His unnatural golden eyes stared back at you blankly.  
  
“That’s Data’s way of saying that you’re being modest,” Geordi said.  
  
“Precisely,” Data replied.  
  
“Am I really standing in front of an android of Dr. Soong?” you asked, positively in awe of him.  
  
“Yes.” He said.  
  
“And your neural network? It’s positronic?”  
  
“Yes. My positronic brain is quite complex and meant to imitate that of a humanoid brain,” he replied flatly.  
  
“I would really enjoy discussing how your brain compensates for electron resistance across your neural filaments,” you positively gushed. You hadn’t expected to meet The Data on your first day. There he stood disproving your entire culmination of failed research that you had spent nearly the past decade on, and you could not be happier about it.  
  
“At a future time, I would be interested in this discussion. However, there is a pressing matter that can not be ignored presently,” he replied gently.  
  
“We got a detailed survey of Vloth and have come up with a way to ease the tectonic pressure of the planet. If you could just help us with the implementation aspect that would be really helpful,” Geordi spoke casually, assured that one way or another the job would get done.  
  
“I’m happy to help,” you said, but what you really wanted to tell them was that your studies in biotechnology hit a dead-end long ago and you mostly stuck to basic robotics now. Although getting chemical compound machines to effectively interact with the environment of Vloth would be, while incredibly imprecise and difficult, not impossible, and far different from creating a neural interface. “Also the propulsion amplifyer should be back online whenever you want to hit the switch,” you said gesturing toward the unit above.  
  
“Good work, Lieutenant,” Geordi said with a smirk. “Let’s get to science lab B, and get this show on the road.” 

–  
The quakes on Vloth were raging and needed to be stopped if the colonists ever hoped to return and rebuild. Leaving the colonists to recover at Starbase 365, the Enterprise was in route to Vloth to put an end to the destruction. You and the others knew it was a long shot, but the prospect of saving someone’s home was too important to not try.  
  
Geordi slapped the badge on his chest. “La Forge to Bridge.”  
  
“Go ahead.”  
  
“Theoretically we’ve devised a way to stop the tremors on Vloth. With the help of Lieutenant Y/N, we’ll be able to implement the design in the next hour.”  
  
“What’s the plan to stop it?”  
  
“Commander Riker, to understand what makes a quake stop, one must first understand what makes it go. The quakes on Vloth are caused by a release of energy stored in rock clusters along the planet’s fault lines. The energy stored in the shifting rocks behaves not unlike a compressed spring.”  
  
“Data…” An exasperated voice came over the com channel, “Can you give this to me any faster?” Riker said.  
  
Data hesitated for a moment. You watched the expression on his face as he seemed to be recalculating what he would say next. “Aye, sir,” he responded. “The building energy has created seismic waves that can only be stopped by the introduction of a new source of friction.”  
  
“Using torpedos directed at carefully chosen locations on the planet we’ll deposit a kind of insulation that will act as the new source of friction, one that expands and self replicates under the planet's crust,” you said a bit more nervously than you intended.  
  
“Understood. Geordi you and the Lieutenant prep the devices. Data return to the bridge, we’ll be arriving within the hour.”  
  
“Aye, sir,” Data replied.  
  
“Riker out.”  
  
The three of you stood and acknowledged one another with a nod before heading out of the lab. You had a plan, now it was time to put it into action. Data appeared as what you could only describe as determined as he walked off down the corridor opposite of you. Geordi led the way back to the warp core with that same determination and you close on his heels.  
  
“I need to get the insulators loaded, you get the torpedos locked onto the required targets.”  
  
“Aye, Commander. I’ll start measuring the point of entry given the planet’s shifts in atmosphere,” you replied splitting off from him toward one of the engineering stations.  
  
In a flash, you took the data key from your hand and plugged it into one of the system computers. Your eyes glowed as you scanned for data coming in from the planet. You checked and rechecked the interplanetary transfer orbits relative to their destination orbits and set the trajectories required to hit your desired target, the predetermined programming of the chemical compound insulator would take over from there. You quickly sent the plotted courses off to the bridge. There was little else to do but to continue checking and rechecking, making certain there were no sudden changes before deployment.  
  
Sudden turbulence nearly lifted you off your feet, and a moment later Geordi reappeared.  
  
“Insulator torpedos are loaded. We are entering the planet’s atmosphere now.”  
  
There was a frenetic display of engineers coming and going around you making sure the ship's engines were doing exactly what the captain needed.  
  
“We don’t have a lot of shots at this. Lieutenant Y/N, keep checking the atmosphere we may need to perform an insertion burn, and we don’t want any changes to slip by us.”  
  
You weren’t certain what the bridge was currently seeing, but given the information you were receiving from the planet, the seismic event was undoubtedly a horrifying sight to behold, as entire land masses literally cascaded into the depths of a sea.  
  
The com channel opened between the bridge and engineering.  
  
“We are prepared to fire torpedos on your order, Captain,” you heard a gruff, almost growling voice say.  
  
Still you continued checking for changes in atmospheric pressure, anything that would send a torpedo off course.  
  
“Fire at will Lieutenant,” another voice said. This one was cool and firm. Although you had yet to meet him, it was undoubtedly the voice of your captain.  
  
“Insulator 1 away,” the gruff voice said.  
  
There was a pause in transmission.  
  
“Insulator 1 on target and expanding, sir,” Commander Data spoke.  
  
“Firing Insulator 2.”  
“Wait!” You shouted, “adjust by two degrees east, one degree north.”  
  
“Adjusting”  
  
Another pause in the transmission.  
  
“Insulator 2 away.”  
  
Again there was silence from the bridge crew. Geordi was furiously typing at a system’s computer, making sure the Enterprise held its location in the planet’s atmosphere.  
  
“Insulator 2 on target and expanding,” Data sounded again.  
  
One more you thought.  
  
“Insulator 3 away”  
  
There was a long pause this time. It felt like an eternity before the bridge spoke again.  
  
“Insulator 3 off course,” Data said.  
  
Your heart leapt to your throat, and you immediately opened a terminal in your heads-up display. You only had a moment to access the torpedos system to course correct it. You attempted to slow the propulsion, but in the blink of an eye, Insulator 3 had already made impact in the wrong location.  
  
The ship violently shook.  
  
“All power to engines,” the captain’s voice came over the com channel.  
  
There was a shift in weight and the ship lifted into a higher orbit.  
  
You looked over at Geordi and you both shared a harrowed look. The two of you ran over to the viewscreen, only to see landmasses of the small planet continuing to fracture. There were glowing blue lines in the fractures as the insulators continued to expand to no avail. It wasn’t happening fast enough. The land splintered and caved in, completely lost to a deep green ocean.  
  
Your mouth went dry and your body cold. It was a profound thing to watch complete and utter destruction on such a grand scale. You had checked and rechecked the atmosphere, taking into account drag time, and had calculated the perfect point of entry. The math was sound. It should have worked. Why didn’t it work? What had you done wrong?  
  
“La Forge, come to the bridge,” a voice came from the com channel. You weren’t sure who it was, you couldn’t concentrate.  
  
“On my way,” you heard Geordi say, and he took off down the hall toward the turbolift, leaving you in front of the view screen surrounded by other officers who were in stunned silence.

–

You were looking outside the window in your quarters as starlight passed you at impossible speeds, but all you could picture was Vloth. You replayed the moment that the planet completely drown in rushing tides...over and over again in your mind. The colonists would not be able to return to their home, not in this lifetime, anyway. The thought of this frightened you deeply and you couldn’t shake away the anxiety of it. You had felt this kind of visceral torment before, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore. You tried to think of your father. What had he said to you just this morning? This morning felt like ages ago.  
There was a chime at your door that startled you back to cold reality.  
  
“Come,” you said, turning to face the door.  
  
“Lieutenant, I didn’t wake you did I?” Geordi entered the room, understandably less cheery as when you had first met with him.  
  
“Oh no, It’s alright...I—I haven’t slept,” You said looking over at your untouched bed.  
  
He paused and looked at you. While you could not see his eyes behind his visor, his brow-line was softened to a look of remorse.  
  
“Look...Insulator 3 went off course due to a sudden upheaval of debris from the planet. Data had control of the torpedo seconds before you, and not even he could course correct it,” Geordi said. His lips went tight. “We tried. We were just out of time.”  
  
You felt like you had the wind knocked out of you. “I’m sorry Commander. I mean—thank you. I just—Thanks for trying to reassure me.” You wished his words had made you feel better. “It never gets easier…”  
  
He nodded and you shared a commiserating look.  
  
“I’m gonna get some rest. You should try to do the same,” he replied.  
  
“Thank you, Commander.”  
  
“Y/N, call me Geordi,” he said and headed to the door.  
  
“Goodnight, Geordi,” you replied as he exited. He nodded at you once more and with a whoosh the door closed behind him.  
  
You stood at the door. For a long moment you contemplated his words, but still, you returned to the window drowning in your thoughts.


	2. Dead on Arrival

The starship Enterprise was in a flurry preparing for a diplomatic exchange with an alien race known as the Triz’en. This was going to be a particularly memorable occasion for you as it was your first day acting as a go-between for the bridge and engineering. This meant that for a considerable part of your day you would be on the bridge crew. You were understandably nervous. You hadn’t been apart of a bridge crew in some time, not since the U.S.S. Meridian, but you tried very hard not to think about that. Now was not the time for distractions or self-doubt. You were going to be working with many of your superior officers today including your captain; it was time to show your worth.

You were in Ten-Forward eating a quick breakfast before heading up to your post on the bridge at 06h00. You burned your mouth as you gulped back a cup of coffee, figuring the boost of synthetic caffeine might be necessary for such a day. You sat alone at one of the tables, trying not to draw much attention to yourself as you scanned the room, surveying your fellow officers.

“I heard they leave slime trails everywhere they go,” you heard a science officer say from two tables over. He grimaced in disgust as he talked with the engineer at his side. You were fairly certain you had met that engineer at some point over the past month, but couldn’t remember his name. You did however know that he worked the transporters.

“Pfft. The captain isn’t going to be happy about that,” the engineer said in a thick Irish accent. 

O’Brien. Yes, that was his name; you remembered it. You took a bite of your Tandorian scone. 

“Lieutenant Y/N,” a familiar and polite voice sounded behind you.

You turned and looked up at Data, your mouth full of scone. “Yeth Communduh,” you said while carefully trying to keep from spewing crumbs all over your superior. 

Data looked nonplused. “Precisely three weeks ago you expressed interest in my neural filaments. I am amenable to discussing this with you at this time if you are not otherwise preoccupied.”

You swallowed hard. “Really? Thank you! Please have a seat,” you said gesturing to the open chair beside you.

His lanky legs moving fluidly, Data sat down beside you and rested his hands neatly on the table. “With your approval, I am also interested in understanding your own cybernetic enhancement,” he said flatly while looking between your eyes and your hand.

“Of course, anything you want to know,” you replied. 

He hesitated for a time, undoubtedly going through subroutines of polite interaction on what one may consider a touchy subject. You noticed his apprehension. 

“Do you want to see it without the glove?” you asked.

“Yes, if I may,” he replied softly.

He watched as you carefully peeled the silicone flesh from your hand. 

“Your design is quite different from my own,” he said.

“You mean not as good?” you looked at him coyly.

“Factually, yes.” 

It was a plain and simple truth. Data was a Soong-type-Android with an incomparable and unrepeatable design. No one’s work in android technology matched the sophistication of Data, not even yours. Because of this you couldn’t feel hurt over his words, and honestly, you also found Data’s utter lack of filter a bit refreshing. Data’s presence was calming, after all; you always knew where you stood with him.

“It has its limitations,” you replied with a smirk. “I fine-tuned it to be as mobile as my right hand, and I created neural pathways as well so I have full sensation,” you said moving your hand toward him for his own inspection. “I also created keys in it that allow me to plug into any computer with an appropriate port. It’s particularly useful when I’m running diagnostics on a machine that doesn’t have a monitor or view screen.”

“A machine like myself then,” he replied looking at you with those soft honeyed eyes.

You felt your face turn a bright shade of red. You honestly couldn’t even fathom what it would be like to have a direct connection to Data’s code and to root around in his neural net. It would surely allow for groundbreaking information in the field of robotics and bioengineering, but those days were behind you now. Besides, as far as you knew Data had never consented to such an invasive study. 

“I suppose that would be true if I had the proper adaptor, but Commander I wouldn’t even dream of such a thing. Besides, you have your own subroutines and system maintenance. I’m sure there is very little I could do to your systems that would benefit you.”

“That remains to be seen, Lieutenant,” he said with unwavering honesty. It was like you could see the wheels turning in his head. It seemed like he wanted to ask you something, but then maybe changed his mind. You couldn’t be sure. 

“To what extent are you able to fully integrate with a computer?” he asked.

You sighed. “Well, the technology is there. It already exists in my hand. Theoretically, I could integrate with a computer on a deeper plane, though there is a very large risk of irreparable brain damage. I could even die. Because of that, I haven’t really tested the scope or limitations of my design. At the moment the risks outweigh the rewards.” 

“Do you think there will be a time in which the reward will justify the risk?” he asked.

You considered his question. “I don’t know—And again, I can’t emphasize it enough, it’s all just theoretical.”

He nodded back to you and smiled as he stood from his chair, his background subroutine notifying him of the time. “I have enjoyed learning more about your design, and apologize for not answering your questions. I am sure that we will have time to continue our discussion later, but if we do not leave now, we will be late,” he said in that formal and impossibly polite way of his.

Your eyes went wide, and you shot up from your chair. “Oh, yes, let’s definitely get going then!”

Data watched you in the turbolift with curiosity and observed your steady increase in anxiety as you neared the bridge. You took a deep breath and exhaled as the doors of the turbolift opened. You were greeted immediately by the warm light of the bridge. Something about it eased you just a little. Data nodded politely to you before he stepped out and crossed the room to his position near the helm. You looked around as you stepped out and silently moved toward the panels at the back of the room. The bridge was mostly quiet, except for the pleasant hum of computers. There was a boy at the helm beside Data; you had not formally met him or anyone else from the bridge yet, but you knew him to be Ensign Crusher. You spoke with the bridge crew at brief moments over the com channel, but you were looking forward to putting a face with the voices you had heard. 

You stepped alongside a large Klingon officer and nodded at him. “Lieutenant Worf,” you said in acknowledgment.

He lifted his head from his screen and nodded back to you. “Lieutenant Y/N,” he said. He looked impossibly confident. You had not seen many Klingon before, only having heard stories about them from your father and other officers. There was also what you had read in books, but there was no substitution for the real thing. His obvious and visible strength came as no surprise to you, but you hadn’t expected him to look so dignified. You hoped that some of that confidence and esteem might rub off on you. 

“Welcome to the bridge,” he said in a familiar gruff voice, and then looked back down at his screen.

“Thank you, sir” you replied, and began checking systems for routine maintenance. 

Just ahead of you, you could see the back of Commander Riker’s head. He was leaning back in his chair and casually reading something on his tablet. You had seen him a few times before, around Ten-Forward, and passed him once in the hall, so you knew what he looked like, but you had yet to speak to him face to face. The Captain was absent from the bridge. He was most likely getting ready alongside the ship’s counselor for his diplomatic meeting with the Triz’en. 

You admittedly knew next to nothing about the Triz’en, except for the rumor you had heard that they were slimy. It was a very exciting prospect for you to be on the bridge at the time of their arrival, and to be one of the first members of the crew to see what they looked like. You absently considered the vast possibilities their appearance might take but refocused your concentration on your maintenance check. 

Moments later, the doors of the Ready-Room slid open and Captain Picard stepped out with Counselor Troi just behind him. He looked just as a captain should, distinguished and noble in about every way. He looked even a bit regal to you, as he smoothed his dress uniform and stepped toward his chair. He scanned the room and made eye contact with you, which felt very intense but said nothing. He turned away and took a seat in his chair. You swallowed nervously and then looked back at your screen. Worf side-eyed you.

“Mr. Crusher, time til arrival?” the Captain spoke almost musically.

You watched the boy at the helm as he moved terminals on his screen. “Just under thirty minutes, sir.”

“Mr. Data, what can you tell us about our soon-to-be guests?” Picard asked.

Without missing a beat Data swung around in his chair and began talking. “The Triz’en are a relatively old species in this part of the galaxy. They belong to the taxonomic family of gastropods. Resembling that of land slugs, they are invertebrates. Like other slugs, they too generate a protective mucus, which is vital to their continued survival as their soft tissue is subject to extreme dryness, or desiccation.”

You could hear the captain breathe out a small sigh, and he tapped his fist on his armrest. The rumor was probably true about the slime trails. 

“Little is known about their culture,” the counselor spoke next. “We know that they often keep to themselves, and have survived largely through conflict-avoidance,” she continued.

“What of the technology they want to share with us?” Picard asked.

“Unknown, sir,” Data answered. 

“We don’t know what they want to present us with. Only that it is a gift that they give to cultures they deem worthy,” Deanna said in her elegant voice. 

“Bridge to La Forge,” the captain said.

“Go ahead, Captain.” Geordi’s voice filled the bridge.

“Are the Triz’en quarters ready to receive them?” Picard asked.

“Yes sir, just evaluating the humidity levels now,” he responded.

Over the last week Geordi, Wesley, and a small science team had turned a large section of deck 8 into a more hospitable habitat for the Triz’en. This task included adding a significant amount of edible plant matter and making the area considerably more damp for the Triz’ens’ skin. 

“Captain the Triz’en starship is approaching,” Wesley said, not taking his eyes from his computer.

“Dampeners on. Open a hailing frequency,” Picard said as he stood and straightened his dress uniform once more.

You watched as Lieutenant Worf’s viewscreen as he hailed the incoming ship. 

The large window of the bridge soon filled with a tube-like object, almost like a submarine. It was the Triz’en ship. Then the viewscreen switched on, revealing strange alien life forms unlike any you had ever seen. Data was absolutely right. They did in fact resemble slugs, but they were far larger than you had imagined. They were probably even bigger than you. They were mostly a golden color but covered in brown and black flecks all over their translucent bodies. In the foreground of the screen sat one of them; you presumed them to be the leader.

“Greetings, I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise,” the captain said confidently as he stepped toward the viewscreen.

You weren’t sure if you could identify the alien’s mouth, but the skin around their head began to shake violently as they spoke, “Greetings to captain and crew. I am Boett.” Even from your station at the back of the room, you could see the clear viscous fluid running down their face. It wasn’t necessarily gross, but you could see why others would find it off-putting, and you knew for certain that the carpeting of the Enterprise wasn’t going to like it. 

“We are pleased to give this gift to your people,” Boett said.

Even though you could not see his face, you were certain that the captain was offering the guests a kind smile. “Thank you for your generosity, Boett. We are pleased to welcome you aboard at your leisure,” he said.

Boett nodded. “My ambassadors Lef and Heot will be ready for transport at the pre-scheduled time,” he said, shaking his skin flaps to the rhythm of his words.  
“Good then, we look forward to hosting your ambassadors in the habitat we’ve fine-tuned for their needs,” Picard assured him.

There was a guttural noise emanating from Boett. “Your hospitality is unnecessary, Captain Picard, yet unsurprising,” he answered. “At the scheduled time, Captain.” 

The view screen then went black and you were all looking at the stars and Triz’en ship once more. Picard turned on his heels to face Deanna, expecting her input.  
“Boett is being genuine, Captain. I read no hostile intentions from him,” she responded then hesitated. “However, there does seem to be some sort of misunderstanding, but I can’t get more than that.” Deanna’s deep eyes were full of wonder.

Picard scanned the rest of the room, for any additional input.

“Seem friendly enough,” Riker said. “The transport scanners should pick up on what they bring with them, so the likelihood of them getting anything dangerous aboard is minimal.”

Picard nodded, satisfied with the response. 

Half past the hour, you all waited on the bridge for confirmation of the Tri’zens’ readiness to beam over to the ship. Chief O’Brien would transport the two ambassadors directly to the habitat, where Picard and a few other bridge crew members would greet them. You stood typing at your view screen, familiarizing yourself with the system, and looking through logs, making sure everything was in working order. You mostly just kept your head down, trying very hard not to draw attention to yourself, while listening to a few of the officers speculating about the gift that the Tri’zen were bringing with them.

“Captain, the Tri’zen ambassadors are ready for transport,” Worf said. His voice startled you, breaking your concentration.

“Thank you, Mr. Worf,” Picard said, standing up. “Lieutenant Commander Data, you have the bridge”

“Aye, sir,” the android replied and crossed the room to the captain’s chair.

You watched from the corner of your eye as Picard entered the turbolift with Deanna and Riker following just behind him. Deanna said something to the captain, though you could not hear what it was. Riker boyishly grinned and nodded at Picard.

The captain then cleared his throat quite loudly. “Lieutenant Y/N, it’s come to my attention that you should be present with Mr. La Forge to receive this gift,” he said.  
Worf side-eyed you and smirked. You couldn’t help but beam a little smile as you walked toward them, but you tried very hard to not make eye contact with anyone as you maneuvered to the back of the lift. 

The doors closed and Picard spoke the appropriate deck number which brought the lift into motion. You stood just behind the captain’s shoulder, daring an awkward glance at the others every now and then. 

“How are you adjusting to life on the Enterprise, Lieutenant?” Riker asked while clapping you on the shoulder. Having watched him around the ship the past few weeks you noticed how easy it was for him to cut through tension. It was something you admired about him.

Deanna was smiling softly beside you and you could tell from the slight tilt in Picard’s neck that he was listening.

You let out a calming breath. “Oh, I think I’m adjusting pretty well, Commander. Thanks for asking,” you said offering him a polite smile.

“Any theories on what this gift might be?” he asked.

“Afraid not. I’m not familiar with Triz’en technology.” You wondered for a moment. “I’m not sure what an otherwise isolated species would be willing to share. Maybe the technology they’re offering is more of a goodwill gesture than something extravagant.”

“Maybe—that would explain the misunderstanding I sense,” Deanna said bringing a bit of validation to your theory.

“Interesting…” Riker said wondering to himself a bit.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Picard replied, turning his head enough to offer you a small smirk. 

The doors opened on deck 8 and fog filled the turbolift and shrouded your feet. You noticed how oppressively hot and thick the air was as you exited behind everyone else. Although uncomfortable to you, the changes to deck 8 were still quite impressive. The entirety of section B including two guest quarters had been transformed from the starship you once knew to what appeared to be a rainforest. It was filled with a marvelous array of plants, some you recognized, and some you didn’t. There was even warm mist raining down from the ceiling, making everything feel generally damp. 

Geordi and his team really outdid themselves, you thought. 

Coming out from behind a large palm, Geordi called to the captain. “We’re all set. Wesley is just calibrating the misters to make sure they run all night,” he said gesturing toward Ensign Crusher who was busily typing at his tricorder.

“Ready to transport on your command, Captain,” Geordi said with a bright smile.

“This is quite spectacular, Mr. La Forge,” Picard said looking around at the changes. He had a sense of wonder about him for just a moment before he smoothed over his dress uniform once more.

Wesley and Geordi came up alongside you as you all formed a somewhat formal looking line to greet the Triz’en ambassadors.

“Chief O’Brien, initiate transport,” Picard bellowed. 

“Aye sir,” O’Brien replied over the com channel.

Three feet away from you, a small beam of glittering light grew from the ceiling, and in nearly an instant two creatures materialized on the floor. They were very large. When upright they were probably taller than Riker by your estimate. 

“Welcome aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, I’m Captain Jean-Luc Picard,” he greeted them warmly. “This is my 1st Officer, Commander Riker.”

“Captain Picard! The Triz’en ship suddenly left orbit. It’s...It seems to have vanished sir,” Worf growled over the com channel. 

You all looked around at one another before turning your attention back to the Triz’en who remained perfectly still on the floor in front of you. They weren’t in an upright position as you had previously seen on the viewscreen on the bridge. They laid flat, face down on the floor, and made no motion.

Picard cleared his throat. “We were not made aware that your ship would be leaving so quickly,” Picard stated expectantly.

“Sir, I think they’re dead!” Deanna said emphatically. “I don’t sense any presence from them.”

Picard slapped his com badge. “Emergency medical team to deck 8 section B.”

Riker and Geordi immediately moved forward through the fog to investigate. Geordi opened his tricorder to confirm. 

“She’s right Captain. There are no life signs,” he said while scanning the ambassadors.

Picard responded quickly. “Lieutenant Worf seal section B, for any risk of contaminants. Access granted to medical personnel only.”

“Sealed, sir,” Worf replied.

“Chief O’Brien, any issue with the transporter?”

“None that I see, sir. Looking through the log now.”

“Commander Data, see if you can identify where the Triz’en ship is going.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Is there something wrong with the habitat?” La Forge asked himself before making a decision. “Let’s shut down the mist and clear the fog.”

You and Wesley went to the wall-mounted control panels and began shutting down systems. 

The next moments were a blur as medical personnel came to assess the bodies and security confirmed that there was no indication of contaminant or contagion, thus allowing the deck to be unsealed. Picard and Deanna returned to the bridge to ascertain the whereabouts of the Triz’en ship while Geordi went to the transporter room to help O’Brien search for any possible explanation in the transport read-out. You and Wesley sifted through data in the habitat and cross-referenced it with the information known on the Triz’en, looking for any flaw in the habitat’s design. 

Pulaski and Riker stood alongside the bodies.

“I can do an autopsy in Med Bay, to try to determine the cause of death, but their bodies are beginning to atrophy at an alarming rate,” Pulaski said. 

“Transporters are offline right now, and we can’t get the room cold quickly enough to keep them from turning to mush. We gotta do what we can from here and quickly,” Riker said with a note of remorse while looking down at the lifeless Triz’en as their bodies congealed and slime pooled on the floor at his feet.

“I’m not seeing any issues in the design or function of the habitat, Commander,” Wesley said.

“I can confirm that,” you replied turning away from the monitor. 

“Why would they leave? Is it possible they noted something was wrong before we did and then darted out of here?” 

Riker’s questions hung in the air as you moved toward the bodies. 

“Maybe they saw that something was wrong on our side, and left out of fear,” Wesley suggested.

“What about the gift?” you posed. 

Riker looked at you somewhat dumbfounded. “They’re dead, I don’t think we’ll be expecting anything from them.”

“No I mean, they should have it with them, right? They were being transported over with some sort of technology to give us, but I don’t see anything with them,” you said as you knelt down to inspect them. Their bodies were almost unrecognizable. They barely looked like slugs now, but more like a mass of yellow and black goo.

“Maybe they weren’t actually giving us anything,” Pulaski said while attempting to chill the ambassadors’ bodies with a coolant spray to prevent further decomposition.

“Or maybe it was just information instead of something physical,” Wesley interjected. 

Wesley’s words made you thoughtful.

“Riker to La Forge, any update on the read-out?”

“Our diagnostics don’t show any discrepancies, Commander. The read-out shows that the ambassadors were alive at the time of transport, but were dead upon arrival. They must have died in transport, but we don’t see any issues with the transporters,” Geordi said. “But it’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

Slime pooled around your shoes. You lifted one of your feet slightly and watched as mucus stretched from the floor to your boot. As you looked around you saw slimy footprints everywhere. There was a set of very large boot prints right near you, obviously belonging to Riker. There were also lots of smaller prints that surely belonging to Pulaski and the other medical staff. 

“Commander Data said they’re similar to gastropods, right?” you asked.

“He did,” Riker said.

“And we know that the Triz’en leave slime trails wherever they go.”

“What’s your point?” Riker asked.

Pulaski immediately took your meaning. “We should get gloves and containers to start collecting the mucus,” she said darting off to the turbolift, leaving a trail of slime in her wake.

“Commander, the mucus secreted by most gastropods is used to spread information to others in their species,” you replied

“Like a pheromone!” Wesley added.

“Yes, I mean in most species the mucus is used as a sort of calling-card for mating, but maybe this is how the Triz’en share information.”

“Riker to Bridge. Lieutenant Y/N may have gotten a piece of this puzzle Captain. We’re on our way now,” he said and then looked down at you with a big grin. “You’re with me on this one, Lieutenant,” he said and then jovially clapped you on the back which knocked you off balance and sent you reeling into the slime face first.

–

You made your way around the table in the conference room and took a seat between Data and Geordi. Riker was at the end of the table, still looking regretful. Apologizing for at least the third time, he mouthed "sorry" to you and then grimaced. "I’m fine" you mouthed back. Deanna sat across from Riker and offered you a commiserating look as well. 

“It’s okay, really,” you said, trying very hard to be a good sport about things. You had taken a decontamination shower and then had a medical scan performed to make sure you weren’t in any immediate danger. You were now far cleaner, and thankfully had a face less filled with mucus, than before. 

Picard and Pulaski entered the room at the same time. The doctor quickly took a seat next to Deanna and Worf as the captain set down his tablet and pulled up the chair at the head of the table.

“Lieutenant Y/N, I trust that you’re feeling much better now,” he said.

“Yes, Captain,” you replied, “I just need to take apart my hand and clean the parts later. There’s some slime still gumming up the works, I’m afraid.” The others watched as you strained the flex your fingers; the mechanisms jammed and made a whirring noise. 

“I want you to take care of that as soon as this meeting is over,” he said firmly.

“Yes, sir,” you replied.

“What of this slime trail theory, then?” Picard asked leaning forward in his chair.

From beside you, Data spoke calmly, “Lieutenant Y/N’s theory holds weight, Captain. It is very possible that the Triz’en do indeed exchange information through their secretions, though we have yet to ascertain what message or code they seek to transmit. Since their gift was stated to be a form of technology we can surmise that it is biotechnology.”

“What word of the Triz’en ship?” Worf asked.

“We have been unable to identify or follow their warp trail. Hypothetically, if the Triz’en are truly experts in leaving trailed information, it is possible that the Triz’en know how to mask their warp trails in such a way to evade detection. For the moment, their knowledge on this matter exceeds our own,” Data replied.

“Well biotechnology is Lieutenant Y/N’s field,” Geordi chimed in.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, knowing full well what was coming. You made eye contact with Deanna, before looking away quickly.

“We’ve collected as much of the mucus as possible. I would think it prudent that Y/N, Data, and I form an understanding of the secretion’s cellular structure. Perhaps we can glean some information from their components,” Dr. Pulaski suggested.

“I agree,” the captain said. “Lieutenant Worf I would like you to continue to send out a subspace message to the Triz’en. With any luck, we can reach them and they’ll receive our condolences.”

“Aye, sir,” Worf responded.

“We should also make note that despite normal functions of the transporters, they may be harmful to the Triz’en species,” Picard said with his attention on Data. “Well, then Lieutenant Y/N, I’d like you to get to work with Mr. Data, and Dr. Pulaski straightaway after cleaning that hand of yours.”

“Yes, sir,” you answered with a nod.

Captain Picard then adjourned the meeting. As you filed out with the others, Data caught your attention.

“Lieutenant, if I may, I would like to assist you in taking apart your hand,” he said as he walked up beside you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Commander. I’m used to taking it apart myself,” you replied as you stepped into the turbolift. 

He followed after you. “I am sure that you are more than capable, Lieutenant, but it is rare that I meet people with cybernetic enhancements. I would like to familiarize myself with the specifications of your hand; especially since you designed your prosthetic yourself and failed to publish a paper on it,” he said fluidly. Then there was a moment of apprehension as if he realized that he may have crossed a line. “That is if you are amenable to my presence?” he questioned.

“Sure, Commander, I think that will be alright,” you said. 

The doors to the turbolift closed.

“Lab C,” Data said.

Your nerves were getting the best of you as the turbolift went into motion. The events of the day made you feel less open than you had been with Data in the morning. You were rattled by the prospect of leaping back into bioengineering by studying the Triz’en secretions; it was the last thing you wanted to do. You had hoped that by taking the system operations position on the Enterprise that you could stick to basic mechanics and coast on your knowledge of programming and robotics. To your dread, it seemed that bioengineering was like a ghost that would seek you out and continue to haunt for as long as it could. You couldn’t run from it forever. 

–

In Lab C the two of you went to work fixing your hand. You removed your silicone glove; long lines of mucus trailed from it to the metallic workings of the prosthetic.

“Well, that’s lovely,” you said and grimaced.

“Ah, because it is not lovely,” Data replied with a strange robotic smile. 

“What?” You looked up at him quizzically.

“I have been making strides in understanding humor. I believe you were using sarcasm before. Your use of the word lovely juxtaposed with bodily secretion, which many find grotesque, is funny,” he said. 

If you didn’t know any better, you would say he almost looked proud of himself. 

You laughed. “That’s right, Data.” You then looked back at the yellow slime covering your hand. “But seriously, can you get me a towel?”

You sat together at the table and began taking apart your prosthetic. Data watched you meticulously as you unscrewed each slime-covered piece of your fingers and handed them to him, which he then cleaned with a liquid solution. 

“I see you used copper at the tips and joints of your fingers. Since joints are generally weak points and copper is a relatively soft metal, why did you not opt for alloyed steel?” he asked as he wiped down the base of your index finger.

“I wanted my fingers to be able to maneuver with ease, and copper is more malleable than steel. It also has some give to it that feels more similar to my other hand. Steel joints seemed too stiff,” you answered. “It's far easier to break this way, but I guess I just opted for flexibility over strength.

“I do not have a human hand to compare my hands to, but I understand why you would choose to design yours this way,” he replied and set your index finger among the neatly ordered pieces on the table.

You clicked your knuckles out of place with the screwdriver and popped the casing on the back of your hand.“So I take it, your joints are a steel alloy?”

“Yes,” he said leaning forward just a bit to see the inner circuits of your prosthesis. “I am, relatively very difficult to break.”

“Humans are pretty fragile, comparatively,” you said and peered up at him. 

He was transfixed by the glow of circuits. You felt a bit exposed as his eyes studied each line of the circuit board, following their paths and committing it to memory. Somewhat bashfully, you extended your hand to him so that he could see it from all angles. 

“I find it very intriguing that you chose fragility over durability. Your design proves that you value authenticity in experience over longevity.” He tilted his head to one side. “This is a human quality that I think I admire,” he said as he took your hand in his and tilted it back to see it from the other side.

“Thank you, Data,” you said.

His eyes met yours questioningly.

You smiled softly at him. “Thank you for, talking about design specs with me. I haven’t been able to talk with anyone about my design since the…” Your voice trailed off.  
“Since the accident aboard on the U.S.S. Meridian,” he said, finishing your thought.

His words echoed in your ears. You pulled your hand from him. “Yes.” Your mind reeled with thoughts of the Meridian. For just a moment you felt transported to that time, and all you could hear was one distant high-pitched scream ringing in your ears.

“Lieutenant…” Data said.

You shook your head and blinked those thoughts away. As the blurriness of your eyes cleared you saw Data beside you looking at you with concerned eyes.

“I’m sorry, Commander,” you said, clearly rattled. “We should put my hand back together.”

He took a pause and looked as though he might ask a question, but then nodded and looked back to the pieces on the table. 

“Lieutenant, something strange has happened,” he said as he lifted a metallic piece from the table and studied it. 

You looked over at him and then at the piece he was holding.

He looked over at you with a determined look in his eyes. “I think it is absolutely vital that you disconnect the neural paths of your prosthesis, since strangely, the chemical composition of this piece has changed, and it appears to be growing its own skin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading. And don't worry we'll be getting significantly more Data in the next chapters.
> 
> Now let us all take a moment of silence for the Triz'en ambassadors whose bodies have been given over to science. Thank you, ambassadors, and sorry we smushed you.


	3. Elementary, My Dear Lieutenant: Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say a quick thank you for all the kind comments that I've received on this story so far. I was initially writing this story for myself, to give me something to focus on during quarantine, but I'm really glad some of you seem to be enjoying it too.
> 
> Secondly, I apologize for the late update. This chapter is a two-part story and I spent a lot of time planning and researching for it. The second half will be uploaded soon.

It had been three weeks since you deactivated the neural connection with your prosthetic hand and put it in Med Bay for observation. Not much had changed since Data’s initial findings: the Triz’en secretion had changed the molecular structure of the metal pieces in your hand and while it wasn’t viewable to the naked eye, it appeared to be growing its own skin. You underwent a series of tests with Data and Dr. Pulaski and determined that the secretion had not worked its way into your bloodstream, and there were no changes to your biochemistry. Luckily, it seems that Data had warned you in time to prevent any of it from getting into your system. For now, you navigated your studies with one less hand as your prosthetic was now ground zero for experimentation.  


You stood at a replicator in one of the labs off of Med Bay. You were utterly exhausted; every moment you weren’t working on the Bridge or in Engineering, you were in the lab experimenting with the secretion. Dr. Pulaski’s clean-up crew had done a thorough job collecting it in large amounts, which proved very beneficial because for some reason, currently unknown, the secretion could not be replicated.  


“Tandorian scone and coffee,” you said, and the replicator whirred into life. Seemingly in an instant, your order materialized in the replicator tray.  


“Hey, Lieutenant,” the familiar voice of Commander Riker came from behind you. His hand was up, ready to affectionately clap you on the shoulder, but he quickly retracted it. “Old habits,” he said and grinned boyishly.  


“Hello, Commander, how are you doing?” you said as you grabbed your food from the replicator. You were stacking your plate on top of your mug so you could carry it with one hand when Riker picked it up for you.  


“I’m doing well,” he said. “Listen, I feel really bad about the whole Triz’en fiasco.”  


Together you walked to the nearest table and sat down.  


“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine really,” you said. You felt bad that he felt bad, which was a familiar and typical emotion for you.  


“No, you’re just being nice. Because of me you lost your hand and have to build a new one. Not to mention that I embarrassed you during your first days aboard and let’s be honest the whole thing was...gross.” He shuddered at the thought of it. “No, I messed up, and I need to make it right, Lieutenant.”  


You looked down at your plate for a moment and then back at him hesitantly. “I’m not going to successfully fight you on this am I?”  


He shook his head.  


“Okay,” you nodded, defeated. “What exactly did you have in mind?”  


He grinned widely and his cheeks flushed a bit. “Well this was Deanna’s suggestion, so I can’t take all the credit, but I thought it was a good idea. You should come to our poker game this evening.”  


You took a sip of your coffee. “You mean your very exclusive bridge-crew poker game?” You joked with a cheeky grin.  


He laughed and nodded. “That’s the one.”  


As you looked at him smiling at you, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth growing in your chest. You didn’t know what it was like to have siblings, but in all ways Commander Riker felt like a big brother looking out for you. It was a nice feeling, and while, you had never really excelled at card games, Riker was difficult to refuse.  


“Alright, Commander. I’ll come to your poker game, but that means we're even, okay?” you insisted.  


He chuckled. “Deal,” he said and stood up from his chair. “Then we’ll see you at 1900 hours in my quarters.”  


You nodded back in agreement. “See you then, Commander.”  


The doors of the lab whooshed open as Riker left. You turned back to your food and started eating as if on autopilot, suddenly too distracted by your thoughts to notice much else. It seemed increasingly clear that some of your fellow officers genuinely wanted to get to know you. Geordi was always delightful to be around and was very supportive. You admired the way he could just light up a room, and pull people out of dark places. Commander Riker, to you, was cool and surprisingly clever and often very thoughtful. And then there was Commander Data. He was the person you felt most comfortable around. He had a quiet and gentle presence that calmed you. Was it possible that you were making friends, that you were beginning to care for these people? The very concept of it frightened you.  


“I don’t deserve them,” you whispered to yourself as you stared down at your mug, tightly clenched in your fist.

–  
In Lab C, you sat looking through the LCARS database trying to find any known records on the Triz’en or any information on secretions that interact with metals. You had been at this for days, and it was proving to be a fruitless endeavor. Data sat at the work station next to yours, looking through the information collected from your preliminary studies. Dr. Pulaski was standing across from you at a large lab table writing down her observations as she looked over sealed glass vials of the secretion. In one of the glass-domes was your prosthetic hand, which remained largely unchanged since your initial exposure to the mucus.  


“Commander Data, I think we can begin writing a report for the Captain and begin the next phase of study soon,” the doctor said as she jotted down notes.  


Data looked away from his screen and nodded. “I agree, although we have yet to form a cogent hypothesis,” he responded.  


“Well, what do we know for sure?” you asked.  


Without missing a beat Data began listing off your findings. “Chemically the Triz’en secretion is largely made up of water as well as glycolic acid and hydrogen oxalate. We also found trace amounts of dilithium, as well as allantoin which is an emollient.”  


“That makes sense,” you said. “For centuries on earth, people used snail slime in their skincare and for healing wounds. It didn’t have hydrogen oxalate in it though.”  


“Indeed,” Data responded. “oxalic acid is often used when cleaning metal and would be unsafe if used on humanoid skin in large amounts.  


“Although, that’s the most likely culprit for altering the metal in my hand,” you replied. “We also know that because the secretion contains dilithium, we can’t use the replicators to create more. Do you think it’s likely that the Triz’en live on a dilithium rich planet?” you asked excitedly.  


Data nodded and leaned toward you, clearly enjoying your conversation. “That is possible, and theoretically could explain why the Triz’en seem so technologically superior.”  


You were both thoughtful as you looked at one another, each of you wondering at the implications of such a strange technology.  


“The ‘skin cell’ on your prosthesis matches your DNA, although it’s not skin at all,” Dr. Pulaski chimed in as she scanned the index finger of your hand with her tricorder.  


In unison, you and Data walked over to the table. The android leaned over the glass dome and peered down at a small fleck of what appeared to be skin. You could barely see in with your naked eye, but Data seemed to be able to see it perfectly.  


“I do not recognize the chemical structure,” he said with his voice full of wonder.  


You leaned down too and try to see this odd bit of flesh more clearly. “It doesn’t appear to have grown at all since we cleaned the hand.”  


He looked quizzically through the glass dome at you. “It is likely that cleaning the secretion from your hand interrupted the growth process”  


Dr. Pulaski observed the two of you as you chatted back and forth trading possible hypotheses for what additional studies might find. She smirked and set down her notes. “Well, I can see this problem is in good hands. Can you two finish the report while I check on patients?” she asked with a grin, though something about her tone told you it wasn’t really a question.  


“Of course, Doctor,” Data said.  


“Good luck,” she said and walked off down the hall.  


“With the captain’s permission, we should begin introducing the secretion to different kinds of metal,” you said.  


“I agree, Lieutenant,” he said and gave you a robotic smile.  


You smiled back at him. “I’ll begin writing the report,” you said as you stifled a yawn.  


Data tilted his head and his eyebrows stitched tightly together. “I will write the report, Lieutenant. It is imperative that you rest,” he said with a look of worry.  


You shook your head. “No, no—It’s okay, Data. I can..”  


“Lieutenant, I do not require sleep, and I have observed that you have been working nearly as much as I have,” he said, reasonably. “I will order you to bed if I have to.”  


You were going to protest further but bit your tongue. You looked up at him looking completely ragged. “Okay, Commander, I’ll head to bed.”  


“Bridge to Commander Data.” The comm channel filled the room with the captain’s voice.  


“Data here,” the android responded with not a moment of hesitation.  


“You’re needed on the bridge; we’ll be arriving at the Class-M planet, shortly.”  


“Aye, Captain. Data out.”  


He looked at you and smiled. “I heard that you will be joining us this evening at Commander Riker’s poker game. You should rest until then.”  


“B-but you heard the captain; it’s a Class-M planet!” you insisted, knowing full well that it meant a chance at meeting a new alien life-form.  


Data looked thoughtful for a moment as he considered your plea. “Unfortunately, your work may suffer if you continue at such a pace. I am afraid I have to insist, Lieutenant. Even if you do not sleep, it is important that you rest.”  


A small part of you wanted to pout, but you refrained. “Yes, sir,” you said and then headed to the turbolift.  


Data turned and called after you, “Lieutenant, I have enjoyed working with you on this project. I believe our work here will help you advance your research.”  


Did he really just say that? Was it possible, that despite all the negative things you perceived yourself to be that somehow this crew still managed to like you? You paused and turned back to him. “Do you mean that, Commander?”  


“Yes, with even the preliminary information we have collected, I am certain that it will have many implications for your research in bioengineering,” he said firmly.  


You shook your head. “No—No, I mean you enjoy working with me?”  


He looked at you with a puzzled expression before he spoke. “I am incapable of feeling joy in the human sense if that is what you are asking,” he said and tilted his head at you.  


“No, that’s not what I meant; I enjoy working with you too,” you said.  


He smiled that familiar closed-mouth grin you had grown accustomed to, but his eyes still looked inquisitive as though he were still trying to solve a problem.  


You turned away from him and bit your cheek as you headed into the lift. As the doors closed, you watched as Data went down the far corridor on his way to the bridge. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself smile without holding back.

–

It was no surprise to you that sleep eluded you. You lied in your bed, bundled in the silky silver sheets that formed a nest around you. The room was warm and your bed was soft and cozy. The light, ambient hum of the Enterprise as it idled in space sounded serene. You were absolutely comfortable—too comfortable. You had tossed and turned for at least the past thirty minutes, and you were fed up with trying. As lovely as your accommodations were, your mind was still full of thoughts. You couldn’t stop thinking about your work with Data, and what kind of planet you were presently hovering around. How could anyone expect you to sleep when there were problems to be solved?  


‘What did Data say?’ you thought to yourself as you sat up in bed. ‘I didn’t have to sleep; I just have to rest.’  


“Computer, lights.” You said as you threw your covers off and hopped out of bed. The room illuminated and you quickly put your uniform back on. You briefly thought about heading to Ten-Forward but decided to save your social battery for the poker game this evening. The holodeck would be a much easier place to unwind. With a relaxation plan in mind, you pinned on your comm-badge and headed out the door.

–

You stood at the computer at Holodeck 3 and looked through the database of saved simulations. As you scrolled through many of the programs were marked ‘Personal’, so you wouldn’t be starting up any of those. Worf’s calisthenics program caught your eye but looked a bit intense for the mood you were in. Then you noticed one of Data’s programs.  


“Sherlock Holmes,” you said, “like the detective?” You chuckled a bit, having had no idea that the android was a fan of the legendary sleuth.  


“it might be nice to play a game with a problem I can actually solve,” you said confidently. “Computer, run program,” you called out and then headed to the replicator to quickly get a costume.  


“Running program,” the computer responded.

When the doors of the holodeck opened you were met with the hustle and bustle of a victorian-era earth city. The room was completely transformed; winding streets and buildings lay before you as far as the eye could see. You stepped through the threshold and the doors closed behind you and blinked out of view. It was a bit cold, so you were glad that your costume was warm. You had fashioned yourself a long wool skirt and waistcoat so that you would blend in with the holographic locals.  


You took in your surroundings. There were stately looking men walking up and down the street in top hats, and women in long gowns that skimmed the ground as they walked. They looked absolutely beautiful and made you feel a tad underdressed. You noticed a child to the left of you. He was dressed in ragged clothes and looking around shiftily as he walked by a well-to-do man. In a split second, you noticed the boy as he picked the man’s pocket and took off down an alleyway. The man hadn’t noticed at all.  


“Impressive,” you said, “Guess I have to be careful.”  


Your first order of business was to figure out where you were and which character you were playing in this story. As you looked around, the landscape certainly didn’t strike you as being London like you had expected. There was a large wooden sign to your right, just up the block. As you got closer you read “Pâtisserie” in a hand-painted script on the sign.  


“French. Ah, I must be in Paris,” you thought aloud, “Didn’t know Sherlock Holmes went to Paris.”  


You weren’t familiar with the complete canon of Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes and you weren’t too familiar with French either, but you knew enough to be dangerous.  


“Bonjour,” you said as you entered the shop.  


The warm smell of buttery baked goods wafted over you. It smelled positively divine; you had half a mind to just quit the game and spend the day eating holographic pastries.  


You were quickly greeted by a kind-looking man in an apron. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle,” he said and then looked at you with wide eyes. “Sacre Bleu, Miss Adler! In my humble shop of all places.”  


He smiled brightly at you and looked eager to help you.  


“Adler?” you asked. “You know who I am?”  


“Absolutement! There is not a soul in Paris who does not know of the prima donna soprano at the Paris Opera. Miss Irene Adler!” He gushed and looked like a man in love.  


“Ah, I’m an opera singer,” you said and chuckled at the thought of it. You could only imagine the stage fright you would get from such a career, and while you did really like singing, you certainly never claimed to be good at it.  


“I guess I should head to the opera house to start this game,” you said, and the man just nodded, blissfully unaware that he was a hologram.  


“Monsieur, could you tell me how to get there from here?” you asked.  


“Bien sur! Le Palais Garnier is at Le Place de l’Opera in the 9th arrondissement,” he said and smiled gleefully.  


You stared at him blankly and shrugged. “I’ll find it...Merci, monsieur,” you said and headed out the door.

You found yourself quite lost in the city for a time. The wheel and spoke pattern of the streets was quite confusing, but passerby were quite fond of the character you were playing and were more than willing to help you find your way to the opera house. You rounded a corner and read a sign that said “Avenue de l’Opera,” and you knew you were on the right track. Just ahead of you was an ornate stone building that stood majestically against the Paris skyline. The architecture had a thoughtful symmetry and the glittering gilded statues along the roofline shone brightly. It was positively beautiful, and you couldn’t wait to see inside.  


As you hurriedly approached the stone steps leading up to the building, a disheveled looking man came bursting out of one of the archways, screaming obscenities in French.  


“No more! No more!” he screamed as he pushed past you and headed into the street.  


An odd theatrical crowd emerged from the building and watched him as he left. His shouting caught the attention of onlookers as well. The entire intersection seemed to come to an abrupt stop as people watched him. A few of them shouted to the man, asking him to end this “madness.”  


“Madness? Mensonge!” he protested and then proclaimed, “There is a devil in this house of music! He will not stop until he kills us all!”  


The man then grabbed his chest and his shouting turned to a wheeze. He collapsed to his knees and screamed one final yell before crumpling face down in the street.  


You ran to him and quickly turned him on his back. You checked for breathing, but he wasn’t, and his pulse was absent as well. Instinctively, you reached for your tricorder but didn’t have it on you. “Do tricorders even work on holograms?” you asked yourself. You hesitated as you thought of what to do, and then the idea came to you. You weren’t sure how well you could do chest compressions with one hand, but you had to try. You braced your weight with your forearm on his chest and began chest compressions with your good hand followed by assisted breathing. People surrounded you and watched as you pounded the base of your palm into the man’s chest, willing him to live. Minutes passed and you grew winded and sweaty. It was no use. You leaned back on your heels and caught your breath. The man was well and truly dead.

–  
A small purple planet filled the viewscreen on the bridge as the Enterprise entered its orbit. Picard was seated in his captain’s chair between Riker and Deanna. Worf stood just behind them checking incoming data from the ship’s sensors, and acting ensign, Wesley Crusher was at the helm confidently plugging away at the keys on his screen. Data was beside him casually looking back and forth between his screen and Wesley’s, assisting the slow down of the ship.  


“Look at that,” Riker said in awe as he looked out at the planet.  


Picard stood and moved closer to the viewscreen. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he replied with his eyes full of wonder.  


The planet was unlike most that the Enterprise had encountered before. The planet’s abundant plant life was a lush purple color and its deep stretches of oceans and wispy cloud-covered skies were a bright, lime-yellow that matched Data’s eyes.  


“Readings coming in from the planet now, sir” Worf stated as he typed at his control panel.  


“I’ve not seen a purple planet before,” Deanna said thoughtfully. “How unusual is that?”  


“The purple pigment of the plant-life is due to the kind of photosynthesizers they are,” Wesley said cheerfully and turned his head to face her. “On most habitable planets, the plant-life absorbs red and blue UV light from their star for energy, and the light they reflect is green. So that’s why to the humanoid eye plants appear green!”  


“This planet is rich in sulfur. Our previous classification of this planet was that of Class-M, but in actuality, it is a Class-N planet.” Data said as he looked at the readings on his screen. “The plant-life here is akin to the first proteobacteria found on Earth, the Purple Sulfur Bacteria, which absorbs green light and reflects blue and red. This means that these plants do not produce oxygen and instead produce sulfur.”  


“You mean to say that any life sustained here lives off sulfur?” Picard asked.  


Data turned to him and nodded. “Precisely. Although rare, sulfur planets can be life-bearing. Any animals or humanoids here would drink sulfuric acid and eat sulfur-rich foods. Life here would also have acclimated to hot UV rays from the planet’s parent star as well as intense wind.”  


“Shields are at maximum, Captain, checking for humanoid life-signs,” Worf stated.  


Riker stepped forward and propped his leg up on the side of Data’s control panel. “Wonder if we’ll get a whiff of someone,” Riker said and grinned.  


“I can only imagine what kind of life-form would evolve here, Number One,” Picard said back and smiled.  


“Sir, I have detected a singular life-form,” Worf said. “Wait...the life sign has vanished,” he growled.  


Picard arched a brow. “Possibly a false reading?” he asked.  


“I felt something, also, Captain,” Deanna said. “Like a wave. It felt—sad. Deeply troubled, but then it was gone,” she added.  


“Looking through the log, the ship’s sensors appear to have detected a life-form at these coordinates,” Data said as he flipped the viewscreen to the desired location.  


The coordinates looked much the same as the rest of the planet. There was a thick purple jungle stretched for hundreds of kilometers in every direction.  


“The sensors detected a life-form here for forty seconds, and then that life-form disappeared,” Worf said.  


“Requesting permission to lead an away team, Captain. There could be someone there in need of medical assistance,” Riker suggested.  


Picard nodded. “I agree. You’ll need to get into your EV suits and beam down with Dr. Pulaski quickly.”  


Riker nodded back. “Lieutenant Worf,” he stated and motioned for him to follow. Together they stepped into the turbolift.  


“Commander Data, head down to Engineering and see if you and Mr. La Forge can glean any more information off of this reading.”  


“Aye, sir,” Data said and was on his way.

– 

As the commotion died down in front of the opera house, the man’s body was taken away by the police, and his death was ruled ‘a disease of the heart’ as the man appeared to have died of pure terror. You wondered if the man had truly died of a heart attack or if he was possibly poisoned. You were in a mystery game, so it was certainly a possibility. You were ushered into the opera house by your fellow performers who worriedly fussed over you.  


“Irene, you gave us such a fright!” a much older man said in a thick french accent. “What were you thinking?”  


You were surrounded by ballerinas and singers in marvelous costumes, there were musicians holding stringed instruments and woodwinds and there were stagehands darting to and fro. It was clear that they were all preparing for a show.  


“Who are you?” you asked the man.  


“Oh non, Irene, you have hit your head? I am Le Maître, Gaston Leroux. The conductor, Mademoiselle,” he said with a worried expression.  


Like a good detective, you knew he’d be a good person to ask questions to. If he was the conductor, then it was likely that he knew most, if not all, the people on staff and knew the inner workings of the opera house.  


“Who was that man who died?”  


“Our first chair violinist, and an absolute fool he was,” he said, he then turned to the performers and shouted. “Stop conjuring up spirits. It is all your foolish talk that haunts us.”  


As you continued your line of questioning you came to understand that the opera house was supposedly haunted by a menacing spirit who terrorized all who worked there. The spirit destroyed sets, disrupted performances, and even had attempted murder. This “phantom,” as he was called, also seemed to have taken a liking to your character, Irene Adler, and her young protégé, Miss Christine Daaé.  


“Well, I don’t believe in ghosts, Monsieur Leroux,” you said, “but I don’t think people are making up stories either. It is far more likely that a person is the cause of all this upset.” While you weren’t too familiar with mystery stories, you knew enough to know that monsters and ghosts in these kinds of tales were never what they seemed.

–  
Riker materialized on the planet with Pulaski and Worf. The harsh wind whipped them backward, but the spiked soles of their environmental suits kept them grounded. The impossibly large trees shook violently and filled the air with an ambient rattling, like the sound of waves crashing on a shoreline. The terrain was rocky but solid. The bright yellow hue of the land shone brightly against the violet hues of the trees.  


“Everybody alright?” Riker asked as he looked between his Worf and Pulaski for confirmation. “Wow, that is an oppressive heat,” he said, already feeling himself sweat in his EV suit.  


Pulaski wavered a bit in the wind and steadied herself on Worf. “Well it’s currently 500 degrees celsius,” She replied. “It’s hard to believe anything could live here. We should adjust the weight of the EV suits,” she said as she looked down at her tricorder. “The average wind gust is currently sixty miles per hour and climbing.”  


Riker acknowledged her with a firm nod, and they began calibrating the weight of their suits to compensate for the wind speed.  


“I don’t think it’s very likely that we’ll be able to walk very far in this, but it sure is beautiful,” Riker said as he looked around. “It’s like a rainforest."  


“There seem to be no signs of rain at the moment, though if weather predictions are correct, a coastal storm should be here within the hour. We won’t want to be here when that happens,” Pulaski warned.  


“I am not detecting any life signs, Commander,” Worf said as he cumbersomely, but carefully moved forward.  


Pulaski shook her head. “I’m not finding anything either,” she agreed. “Though, Commander, I’d like to take back some soil and plant samples for further study.”  


“Alright,” Riker said and then slapped his comm-badge. “Riker to Captain Picard.”  


“Go ahead, Number One,” Picard’s voice emanated from Riker’s suit.  


“We haven’t found the source of the life-sign yet, and the wind speed is increasing exponentially, making it difficult to navigate, though we’d like to look around a bit more to collect samples for Dr. Pulaski.”  


“Understood,” Picard responded, “Stay within in your current coordinates. We’ll keep an eye on the storm; I think it best that your team returns to the Enterprise well before the rain hits.”  


“Agreed, Captain.” Riker acknowledged and then turned his attention to Dr. Pulaski. “Let us know what to collect, Doctor.”

– 

Data and Geordi stood at the large terminal in Engineering, trying to locate a possible cause for the life sign that had abruptly disappeared.  


“It seems increasingly unlikely that the sensors misread something, but it’s strange that this life-form was only detected for a blip,” Geordi said as he looked between Data and the monitor with a puzzled expression.  


“I agree, the quark resonance scanners are working nominally,” Data said, “We should view the readout from the optical and chemical sensors to see if the computer can extrapolate an informed biology or chemical composition of the life-form,” Data suggested.  


Geordi agreed with a nod. “Computer, does this life-form’s biology match any currently on file?”  


“Negative. Insufficient data,” the computer answered.  


“Okay, what is the life-form's chemical components?”  


The computer was quick to respond, “The life-form is is made up of sulfuric acid between 76-84% and protein between 9-12% as the major components. Further composition includes fat at 3--”  


“Computer stop,” Geordi said dismissively. “That all checks out. A life-form that’s made up of mostly sulfuric moisture would make sense on a sulfur planet, but why would it suddenly disappear?”  


Data took a pause and considered Geordi’s question. He stared at the terminal blankly, but his positronic brain was full of thought as he muddled over the problem.  


“It is possible that this life-form possesses some form of cloaking technology that we do not. The life-form in question may have figured out a way to bend light in such a way that it appears invisible to us and the ship sensors, and thermal readings from the scanners may be inconclusive due to the overloading of heat signatures from the planet.”  


“You’re saying that our thermal scanners wouldn’t be able to distinguish a life-form from anything else on the planet because everything there is hot,” Geordi confirmed.  


Data insisted, “It is possible. We are able to detect the thermal signatures of Commander Riker and his team because comparatively, they are cold.”  


“So ultimately, if there’s life on this planet, it might be too hot for us to detect properly and there’s a possibility that it doesn’t want to be found.”  


“We should notify the Captain.” Data suggested.

– 

In the holodeck program, you walked through a brightly-lit dressing room in the opera house. There were rows of vanities and girls were at each space primping and preparing their makeup for the rehearsal. It was loud and filled with excited energy as costumes were thrown about in a hurried manner and performers rushed in and out of the room. You tried to ignore them as you were on a mission to find your supposed “protégé” Miss Daaé since it seemed only logical that you question her next. You went through a large door at the end of the room and dipped down a small set of stairs. You went through a corridor that you were told was a short cut to the chapel where Christine often frequented to pay her respects to her late father.  


As you neared the chapel you could hear a melodious tune in the air. It was a somber, gentle voice, and if you moved too quickly you could scarcely hear it. You approached the open door of the chapel and saw a young woman sitting in front of an altar. She looked impossibly beautiful, as the frills of her long white dress poured around her on the floor. Her beauty shone through the dim light of the room, and her eyes glinted brightly as she lit a candle in front of her.  


“Christine?” you asked, and she turned to you, looking a bit startled.  


“Irene, my dearest tutor,” she greeted you warmly.  


As you walked toward her, you thought of how the others in the opera company seemed suspicious that Christine was an accomplice of the phantom, using a devil to do her bidding so that she would be seen as the most talented girl in all of Paris. You considered the notion of her being a suspect as you sat down beside her.  


“Were you singing just a moment ago?” you asked.  


“Non, mon amie.” She shook her head and then answered, “It is the angel.”  


Her warm eyes bore into yours.  


“The angel?”  


She looked down at the floor and then back at you. “The phantom of which they speak, I believe to be the spirit of my father. He is an angel of music.”  


You rested a hand on your face as she told you the story of her father’s death, and how when he lay dying he promised that he would send her an angel to watch over her.  


“So you believe that this ‘angel’ is looking out for you?” You asked.  


“I do; I believe he was sent here to guide me on my path,” she said as she gazed wistfully at the candle she lit for her father. “Kind of like you, Irene,” she said and smiled at you.  


You frowned and thought over the clues you had found so far. Christine had a gentle naivete to her. Christine seemed to truly believe what she was saying and because of this, you didn’t consider her a prime suspect.  


Christine stood. “Thank you my dear friend for accompanying me in my prayers,” she spoke to you softly. “We should head to rehearsal now.”  


You looked up at her and then around at the room.  


“I’m going to stay here for a minute. I’ll catch up to you,” you said.  


She smiled sweetly at you before she walked out from the chapel and down the hall.

–  
In Transporter Room 3, Miles O’Brien stood at the control panel preparing to beam the away team back aboard the Enterprise.  


“I have a lock on your position when you are ready, Commander,” O’Brien said as he looked down at the data streaming on the terminal below.  


Riker’s voice came over the comm-channel, “Mr. O’Brien, three and some cargo to beam up.”  


“Aye, sir,” O’Brien said as he glided his finger along the terminal, whirring the transporter to life.  


Miles looked up and watched as the team materialized on the platform. At first, they were nothing but glittering light, but soon took shape and finally solid form.  


“That’s peculiar,” O’Brien said.  


“What is it?” Riker asked as he removed the helmet of his EV suit and looked around to see that Worf and Pulaski were accounted for.  


“The mass of the cargo… During transport, it measured 4 times heavier than what it does now.” Miles was a bit baffled as he showed Riker the transporter log.  


“Did something attempt to beam back with us?” Worf growled and looked around the room suspiciously.  


Pulaski immediately pulled out her tricorder to begin scanning the room for any anomalies.  


“The scanners don’t show any discrepancies other than the mass,” Miles explained, “I’d have to do further diagnostics.  


The conversation was abruptly interrupted by an ear-piercing screech as the metal doors of the transporter room were clawed open by an invisible assailant. The doors flung open as some unseen entity ran through and out into the hall.  


Riker and Worf were quick to draw their phasers as they ran out into the hall, but the figure in question was nowhere to be found.  


“Which way did it go?” Worf shouted.  


Riker quickly slapped his badge. “Riker to Bridge! Go to Red-Alert! It looks like some life-form transported back with us.”  


The alarms sounded their awful wail and red lights flashed throughout the ship.

– 

Meanwhile, unbeknownst the madness that lies just outside holodeck 3, Christine’s absence gave you the perfect opportunity to look around the chapel. You first went to the altar to look at the candles. You had once read a book that said people used to hide secret messages and items in candles, so perhaps you would find something there. As you peered down at the melted wax, you suddenly heard the music again. It was that same gentle song. You ran to the chapel door to see if Christine was coming back down the hall, but no one was there.  


“Strange,” you said as you glanced around the room. “Where is that coming from?”  


You put your ear to the stone wall and let your ears guide you to where the song sounded the loudest. When you pulled away from the wall you were standing in front of a large ornate mirror. The voice suddenly erupted from the mirror and startled you backward. It was as if there was a person singing just on the other side.  


“That’s creepy,” you said. “It must be a passage, right?”  


You braced yourself, as you expected this rogue phantom to try to frighten you. You pushed on the mirror, searching for a way to open the passage that you were sure was there. You stepped back and thought about just breaking it, but suddenly a dark mist came through the mirror and grabbed you around the waist. You let out a scream and then laughed surprised that the program had gotten a rise out of you. This was still a game after all. You tried to pull away from this strange apparition, but no matter how much you struggled against it, you couldn’t get free.  


“Computer, end program!” you shouted, no longer liking this game, but the computer did not respond.  


You were being pulled into the glass now and abruptly the mirror turned to a viscous silver liquid, and you were pulled completely through.  


“Computer! Computer!” you screamed, but the computer wasn’t listening.


	4. Elementary, My Dear Lieutenant: Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for your patience as I know it has been a considerable amount of time since I last updated. When I first started writing this story I was watching TNG for the first time and was somewhere in season 3. I decided to finish watching the show before continuing to write, as I want this story to fit within the canon as much as possible.  
> I really appreciate all your lovely comments, and please know that even when I haven't posted, I am still very much invested in this story.

Chapter 4:  
Elementary, My Dear Lieutenant  
Part II

There was an ordered chaos aboard the Enterprise as non-essential personnel hunkered down in their quarters, and the security teams swept each deck of the ship in search of the invisible intruder. The Enterprise was like a well-oiled machine. Everyone was well aware of what to do in an emergency. Commander Riker led a team on Deck 6, looking for any sign of the life-form’s whereabouts. This seemed to be a fruitless effort however, as there was no indication of its movements anywhere. Riker came to a halt and the three officers behind him followed suit.  
  
“Lt. Worf, any movement on your end?” Riker asked over the comm-channel.  
  
Worf’s voice came over the line from Deck 17. “We have not seen any sign of the intruder, Commander,” he said, sounding frustrated.  
  
“We’re not able to track this thing. Any ideas on how we’re going to locate it?” Riker shouted over the comm-channel as he hurried down the corridor.  
  
“Working on it now, Commander. Data and I are doing a thermal scan of the ship. It should take just a few moments,” Geordi’s voice came over the channel.  
  
There was a pause in transmission. Riker motioned for the security team to follow him as they moved forward through the corridor.  
  
The comm channel sounded once more. “Commander…”  
  
“Go ahead, Dr. Pulaski.” Riker responded.  
  
“I’ve been getting some distress calls from the quarters near the holodecks on deck 12. A few officers there have started having respiratory issues, coughing and labored breathing,” she said. “Requesting permission to leave med bay.”  
  
Riker looked back at his small team of officers with a serious look, assessing that each officer was prepared. “We’ll meet you there, Doctor.”

–  
“Priority scanning Deck 12 now,” Data said as Geordi left his own terminal to look at Data’s screen.  
  
The screen showed a detailed schematic of Deck 12. Compared to the other decks, it was obvious that Deck 12 was much hotter as it glowed a light orange hue. There were distinct heat signatures also visible; undoubtedly they belonged to the crew members in their quarters.  
  
Data’s fingers drummed on the keys, zooming in on the area near the holodecks that appeared to be the hottest. A thick, red and orange shape stood out, and it was moving around in holodeck 3.  
  
“Is that holodeck still running?” Geordi asked.  
  
“It seems that the emergency shut down of the holodeck failed during the red alert,” Data said.  
  
“Computer, who is in holodeck 3?”Geordi asked aloud.  
  
“Currently unknown. Last known occupant was Lieutenant Y/N,” The computer said in a flat apathetic voice.  
  
Geordi and Data shared a glance.  
  
“The computer is malfunctioning in the area due to the rising temperature,” Data said.  
  
Geordi slapped his comm-badge and called out to inform Riker. “Commander, the life-form appears to be in holodeck 3. Data and I are on our way now.”  
  
“Acknowledged,” Riker’s voice came back.  
  
Data hopped up from the terminal as he and Geordi darted off to a nearby turbolift.  
  
-

You woke to the sound of music. A tortured tone whispered sorrowfully, stirring you from your slumber. When had you fallen asleep? You wondered as you blinked your eyes open. The light was dim and flickering, but your eyes slowly adjusted. You almost sat up, but then remembered your terrifying encounter. You decided not to move right away and instead tried to take in your surroundings. You were sweating profusely, and your mouth was gummy and dry. Why was it so hot? You were lying on a plush bed, and you could feel the feather bedding poking into your back and the cool silk sheets sticking to your sweaty cheek.  
  
The bereft voice continued to sing its haunting melody and it sounded close by. You scanned the room as best you could, looking for the source of the sound. There was thick fog over a pool of water close to where you lay. You squinted into the fog and saw a tall, shadowy figure moving in and out of the candlelight, as it seemed to dance through the water. There was a playfulness to the figure as it moved to the rhythm of its song with the water splashing against them.  
  
You remained still, carefully reasoning through your options. Was this figure part of the game? The computer hadn’t turned off per your instructions. Was the holodeck just malfunctioning? If so, then safety protocols were probably no longer in place. You knew that this put you in a dangerous position. You needed to figure a way to reach the crew or to get yourself out.  
  
You didn’t have your comm-badge, as you had changed into a costume before entering the holodeck. You also didn’t have a weapon on you. If it came to a fight, you would have to rely on your hand-to-hand combat training. You had never been the strongest officer, but you were fast and with any luck, that would be enough. There was a stone staircase at the far end of the room, the only escape you could see from your position. Finally, there was the option of simply trying to talk your way out of the situation. You weren’t the most persuasive person and didn’t have the same charm as many of the officers on the command track. You were good with computers, not people, but you’d have to do your best.  
  
As you laid there mulling over your flight or fight scenarios, you hadn’t noticed the silence that fell over the room. The water had completely stilled and the singing had hushed entirely. Your eyes peered into the darkness, looking for any sign of movement.  
  
“You’re awake,” a male voice said from behind you.  
  
You skin hummed with fear as your eyes widened. How had you not seen this figure cross the room?  
  
“It’s alright, you’re safe, Y/N.”  
  
The voice sounded so familiar to you, but you couldn’t place it right away. Somewhere deep inside you, you found the courage to quickly leap off the bed and turn to face the figure on the walkway across from you.  
  
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” the figure spoke softly and moved into the light.  
  
You gasped. They wore a red Starfleet uniform with gold piping up the front. They had bars and pips, that of an admiral. What completely rattled you to your core, however, was that this shadow, this phantom, it wore your father’s face. 

\- 

As Geordi and Data rounded a corner on Deck 12, they saw security teams and medical officers ushering the crew and their families from their quarters. Crew members rushed to and fro as they evacuated the deck at a hurried pace. A few people were wheezing and coughing, as they stumbled toward the turbolifts.  
  
Riker moved through the crowd toward Geordi and Data.  
  
“Dr. Pulaski says there is sulfur dioxide building up on the deck. Some of the crew and their families are starting to experience respiratory symptoms. We’re going to need to evacuate decks 11 and 13 as well since venting the place only works so well with that life-form still on board,” he informed them.  
  
“It will take some time to get everyone off of the affected decks, even with the transporters. We need all security teams assisting, Commander,” Worf said.  
  
Riker nodded to him and then ordered, “Geordi, Data, I need you to get that holodeck program shut down.”  
  
Without a moment of hesitation Data took off down the corridor toward Holodeck 3 with Geordi following quickly after him.  
  
Data was already at the door, plugging away at the computer terminal, as Geordi came up beside him.  
  
“There appears to be a total lockout. Administrator codes are not recognized,” Data said as he opened up a command terminal.  
  
Geordi knelt down and popped the metal casing beside the door. He moved the panel aside, revealing a myriad of colorful wires and blinking circuitry.  
  
“Did you shut it down?” Riker asked as he ran up alongside them.  
  
“’Fraid not, Commander. We might not be able to shut down the program but I can manually open the doors from here,” Geordi said. “We may have to go in after it.”  
  
Riker looked thoughtful for a moment. “What program is even running?”  
  
“It appears that Lieutenant Y/N was last running one of my Sherlock Holmes programs, sir,” Data said. “And unfortunately, I am unable to vent the room.”  
  
“So Y/N is in there with the life-form?” Riker asked, eyes wide as he worked the problem.  
  
“We believe so, Commander,” Data responded and then turned to him. “I volunteer to go inside as I am not affected by sulfur dioxide.”  
  
“I’ll go too,” Geordi volunteered.  
  
“You’d be putting yourself at risk, I’ll go instead,” Riker told him.  
  
“Commander, my visor should be able to pick up on the life-forms heat signature regardless of whether or not it chooses to be invisible, and Data and I are most familiar with the Sherlock Holmes programs. I’m also more able to shut the program down once I’m inside,” Geordi argued as he looked at Riker earnestly.  
  
Riker pursed his lips as if he would protest but then nodded. “I’m going to continue clearing the decks and inform the Captain. When the decks are all clear, I’m coming in after you.”

-

You stood in the depths beneath the opera house, deep within the phantom’s dark dwellings. You were paralyzed with fear as you looked upon this person with the face of your father. He looked younger than you remembered. His hair was thicker and not nearly as grey. His face was more youthful as well. The smile lines around his eyes weren’t there anymore. He looked the way he did in the outdated picture in the Starfleet Database.  
  
“Who are you? I know you’re not my father,” you questioned emphatically.  
  
“It’s alright, Kiddo,” the figure said. “That’s what your father calls you right?” His voice was your father’s as well. It was a perfect mimic of him. “I have no intention of hurting you.”  
  
You took a step backward. “Why are you trying to act like my father?”  
  
The figure stitched his brows together and straightened. “It is not my wish to frighten you. I took this form as this is a person you trust and care for, is he not? I saw this on your computer.”  
  
You nodded slowly in acknowledgment. “But who are you?”  
  
“My name is Katnul. It has been a long time since a ship has visited the planet. I wish only to be your friend,” he spoke calmly.  
  
You arched a brow quizzically. “Katnul.”  
  
There was a bittersweet smile on his face as he heard his name. It was a sorrowful kind of smile as if he had not heard his name in years.  
  
“Are you alone?”  
  
“I have been alone for many of your lifetimes,” he said. “The others...the others like me, died a long ago.”  
  
You could see the anguish forming on his face. It wasn’t an expression you were used to seeing on your father.  
  
“Will you end this program, and let me out of here?” You asked cautiously as you wiped the sweat from your face.  
  
He stared back at you with a pained expression. “I won’t be doing that. We should continue playing your game.”

-

Geordi and Data were met with the hustle and bustle of victorian Paris as they entered the holodeck still in uniform. The situation was dire, and there was no time for costumes. The levels of sulfur dioxide were steadily rising, putting everyone at risk.  
  
“Geez is it hot?” Geordi said as he pulled at the neck of his uniform that was already covered in sweat. “Do you know which story this is, Data?”  
  
Data looked around. “There are only a few works that mention Sherlock Holmes in Paris, the most notable being ‘A Game of Shadows’. However, we may be in a derivative work.  
  
“How do we figure out which one and who Lieutenant Y/N is playing?”  
  
Data took in the surroundings. He rubbed his chin methodically as he took in the landscape. Even under the circumstances, it was hard to not get into character. “There, that bakery.” He pointed. “We should start our search there.”  
  
“Why there?” Geordi asked as he followed after Data.  
  
“I have observed that Lieutenant Y/N starts each day with a Tandorian scone. This is a Pâtisserie, which sells all forms of sweet baked goods. If this is the location that the Lieutenant entered the holodeck then I am certain that they would have stopped here.”  
  
As they approached, the shop owner stepped out and shut the door behind him.  
  
“Désolé, mes amis. We are closed for the day,” he said as he stuck his key in the door to lock it.  
  
“Excuse me, but have you seen someone like us today?” Geordi asked, somewhat cheating the game with his meta question.  
  
The man looked him up and down. “Like you.” The hologram seemed to glitch for a moment and then nodded. “Ah, you mean Miss Adler! The most lovely opera singer in all of Paris.”  
  
“Geordi, I believe that we are in ‘The Canary Trainer’ which is a story about Sherlock Holmes facing off against the Phantom of the Opera,” Data said while paying no mind to the shopkeeper. “The Lieutenant is playing the role of Irene Adler, who is often depicted as the love interest to Sherlock Holmes in derivative works. In this story, Adler is an opera singer who asks Sherlock Holmes to unmask a supposed phantom that is threatening the opera.”  
  
“Then we know where we need to go, right?”  
  
“Indubitably, my dear Watson,” he said.  
  
Geordi pursed his lips. “Y’know, Data, it just sounds weird hearing you say that without the hat.”  
  
Data’s face pinched as he tried to discern exactly what Geordi meant.  
  
“Let’s get moving.” Geordi interrupted Data’s train of thought, and the game was afoot as they ran off down the Paris streets in search of the opera house.

-  
Riker and Worf were drenched in sweat as they moved through Deck 13 at a hurried pace and checked that each of the quarters was empty. A few crew members were up ahead, making their way to the turbolifts. Mr. O’Brien should have transported the crewmen off the other end of the deck only moments ago.  
  
“Update, Number One,” Picard’s voice bellowed over the comm-channel.  
  
Riker stopped in his tracks and took a moment to catch his breath. There was a burning sensation forming in his chest, and no matter how many times he tried to swallow it back, the feeling remained.  
  
“Clearing the last of Deck 13 now,” he responded, “Decks 11 and 12 are clear except for the holodeck.”  
  
“Are you experiencing any symptoms of the sulfur dioxide?”  
  
Riker put his hands on his knees and stifled a cough. Running definitely didn’t help the situation. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Worf. He looked equally exasperated and sweaty, but Worf shook his head.  
  
“We’re okay for now, Captain. We’ll get back into our EV suits and assemble a security team to enter the holodeck on your order.”  
  
There was a momentary pause in the transmission. Riker wondered for a moment if the captain would change his plans as he was coordinating with the other teams. Worf and Riker looked at one another and waited for confirmation. Worf took a deep breath and held in a cough. There was a sickly noise as he cleared the phlegm from his throat.  
  
“You alright there, Mr. Worf?” Riker asked with a cheeky grin as he pushed his dripping hair off of his face.  
  
Worf made a disgruntled face. “I am fine, Commander,” he growled. His face was red and hot. “There are many Klingon ceremonies where one is asked to endure temperatures far exceeding this. It is you I am worried about.”  
  
Riker smiled in response. “Thanks for your concern, Mr. Worf.”  
  
Picard’s voice sounded once more. “Number One, I would like you and Mr. Worf cleared by Dr. Pulaski before entering the holodeck,”  
  
Riker raised his brows. “Yes, Sir. Riker out,” he responded.

-

The heat of the room smothered you as stood face to face with your captor. Katnul was insistent that you continue the game despite your protest.  
  
“Katnul, I can’t play this game with you. Something is very wrong,” you said.  
  
You were feeling light-headed and your chest was heavy. You weren’t sure what was happening to you, and you wished dearly that you had your comm-badge, or at the very least your tricorder so you could know what was causing your pain.  
  
There was a flash of worry in Katnul’s eyes, but he quickly shook the feeling away. “No, no. You’ll feel better as soon as we start up the game again.”  
  
He rushed to your side and steadied you.  
  
“Let’s see, where were you in this story?” he wondered for a moment. “You were just taunted by the mysterious phantom, and now he insists that you perform an opera that he wrote specifically for you to sing,” he smiled. “That should be fun.”  
  
You stumbled as you pulled away from him.  
  
“Why are you so desperate to play this game with me?” you found the strength to ask.  
  
Katnul gazed at you with a haunted look in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. You looked as if you were going to collapse at any moment, and there was pity in his eyes as he appeared torn. He turned away from you and was thoughtful for a time.  
  
You felt so weak. Your legs buckled, but you caught yourself before smacking into the ground. Even the stone in this underground cavern was hot to the touch as you sat down upon it. You wouldn’t be going anywhere, anytime soon.  
  
“They left me all alone.”  
  
Katnul’s voice broke the silence, shaking you from your malaise. He turned back toward you. His eyes held a deep sadness, a sadness that felt frighteningly familiar.  
  
“After my brothers and sisters died, I was left alone on the planet. I wandered for ages, in search of anyone else like me. But there was no one. Can you imagine the breadth of such a loneliness?” He posed as he knelt in front of you. “Centuries passed me by, but time loses meaning without anyone to share it with. A few decades ago a ship came to my planet, but their stay was short-lived.” His eyes darkened as he looked out toward the water flowing through the oppressive chamber.  
  
“I need you to keep playing, Kiddo,” he said and yanked you onto your feet. “There is a show about to start.” 

-  
Data and Geordi entered the opera house. Geordi was panting as they came to a stop. He coughed and sputtered up phlegm like he was choking. Data looked at him with a concerned expression.  
  
“Are you alright, Geordi?” he asked as he whipped out his tricorder to check on Geordi’s status.  
  
Geordi pushed the tricorder away. “I’m alright, Data. It just hurts to run,” he replied and cleared his throat.  
  
The energy in the opera house was lively as ushers welcomed theatre-goers into the auditorium. The house was packed as hundreds of holograms rushed to their seats, anticipating the show.  
  
“Tickets, please. Tickets,” an attendant was adamantly shouting over the crowd. “Taking tickets here.”  
  
“Geordi, are you able to pinpoint a direction with your visor?” Data asked as he pushed through the crowded vestibule toward the attendant.  
  
Geordi looked around the room looking for a pocket of thermal energy. There was a large red mist off in the distance of his vision. “It seems much hotter the farther back you go into the theatre,” he said.  
  
Data pushed through the crowd until he and Geordi were next in line for the ticket attendant.  
  
“Tickets please,” the hologram said with a jovial smile.  
  
“I do not have a ticket,” Data said.  
  
He looked at Geordi and gave him a reassuring nudge.  
  
“We are with the band,” he continued confidently and gave the ticket attendant a nod as if to say that he could be trusted.  
  
The ticket attendant looked up at him blankly, then smiled. He removed the velvet rope and ushered the two of them through.  
  
“Right this way,” he welcomed.  
  
Geordi led the way as they rushed past and took off down a less crowded hall. They tried to keep a hurried pace, but under the circumstances, Geordi could only move as quickly as his body would allow.  
  
“Talk to me, Data. Keep my mind off of slowing down,” he said, as they pushed onward through the halls, following the path in his visor.  
  
Without missing a beat Data responded. “Perhaps there is something you can help me with,” Data suggested.  
  
“What’s that, Data?”  
  
“Lieutenant Y/N is an expert in their field, but they often down-play their ability, or reject it entirely in casual conversation. However, once engaged, they seem to genuinely enjoy their work. I do not understand their reluctance. Is it that they do not wish to converse with me?” Data wondered.  
  
Geordi’s coughs echoed through the hall before he spoke. “I don’t think it’s that, Data. It’s probably just hard for them to continue their work after what happened on the starship Meridian. I don’t know all the details, but it sounded pretty rough.”  
  
Data pursed his lips and was thoughtful before speaking again. “Only a small number of the crew survived,” he said as if he did not already know the exact number. “I have read that humans often deal with guilt after a tragedy. Could this be what the Lieutenant is working through?” he posed.  
  
Geordi’s visor led them to a door that would take them deeper into the opera house.  
  
“It’s possible. Maybe if you get close enough, you can ask,” Geordi offered as he pushed open the large ornate door. A long set of stone steps called them forward into the deep darkness of the opera house’s lower chambers.  
  
“Looks like we’re going down, Data.” 

-

The room seemed even darker to you now as spots clouded your vision. Your chest heaved with every breath and you didn’t know how much longer you would stay conscious. You began counting the stones that lined the floor, anything to keep you lucid.  
  
“Can’t you hear them...everyone in Paris is waiting to hear your song,” Katnul said as he gestured grandly toward the ceiling. “You have to get up, though,” he urged.  
  
“Katnul, I can’t.” Your voice was nearly a whisper now.  
  
“Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?” he asked as he knelt down and inspected your face.  
  
You felt anger in the pit of your stomach.  
  
“End the game, I need a doctor,” you spat.  
  
“If I end the game, you’ll leave!” he shouted. “I won’t end this until you agree to stay with me. I won’t go back there alone,” he insisted.  
  
You began coughing profusely. There was something about being so close to Katnul, that caused your whole body to retreat away from him. As you drew backward you saw a glimpse of something at the far end of the room. Maybe they were just shadows in your vision, but you saw movement and it was coming closer.  
  
“The Lieutenant cannot survive on your planet.” Data and Geordi stepped into the light with their phasers drawn and ready to fire.  
  
Katnul’s shock was palpable as he scooped you into his arms. As you hung there, nearly limp, you had never been so happy to see your crewmates.  
  
“Katnul has been alone on the planet for centuries. He’s the last of his kind,” you said, spilling what information you could before you would inevitably pass out.  
  
“When the last ship visited my planet, they said I was ugly. They called me a monster and abandoned me there because I was too disgusting a creature to love,” Katnul shouted, spittle dribbling down his face as he recalled his dark memories. “I like this ship though. This machine you have, allows me to take whatever form I wish.”  
  
Data stepped forward cautiously. His face stony and calculating.  
  
“I understand. It is a near-universal failing that people judge one another based on outward appearance,” Data said, his voice steady and gentle. “Lieutenant Y/N is very sick, and we need to take--”  
  
Before Data could finish his thought as if like a candle being snuffed out, a large plume of smoke engulfed you and Katnul made the two of you invisible.  
  
“I can see them, Data!” Geordi shouted. “He’s using the smoke to refract the light so that he appears invisible.”  
  
“Let’s move ahead in this story shall we?” Katnul shouted.  
  
In the blink of an eye, you were standing on a stage. The lights overhead pierced your eyes as you looked out onto a riotous crowd, who were all eagerly awaiting a performance. The curtains were already drawn, and it was time for a show. Your eyes wandered the room searching for some sign of Geordi and Data as a string quartet began to play a powerful tune. Dancers soon filled the stage, weaving past you and Katnul as if you weren’t even there. There was a flurry of costumes and colorful lights and the sound was near deafening as the audience clapped and the music played.  
  
Data and Geordi burst into the orchestra pit, nearly running straight into the conductor.  
  
“Where have you been?” the conductor screeched as he grabbed Data by the collar. “You are supposed to be the first chair violinist!” he said while frustratedly pointing toward an empty chair in the orchestra.  
  
He and Geordi peered up at the stage and watched as Katnul danced with you.  
  
“I am going to play along. I need to get closer in order to help the Lieutenant. Go around to the other side of the stage to get a clear shot. If he refuses to shut down the program, firing on him may be the only way.”  
  
“I’m on it,” Geordi choked out as he looked for a way out of the pit.  
  
Data grabbed the violin from the chair that was meant for Sherlock Holmes. He approached the stage with his instrument at the ready. His eyes were trained on Katnul as he climbed the steps and prepared to play.  
  
The bow crashed upon the strings with power and skill as he started to play a sorrowful tune. A hush descended on the room. The stage darkened and cleared of dancers.  
  
“Ah It’s time for your song,” Katnul said as he held you upright.  
  
Your head lobbed backward.  
  
“This isn’t a game anymore.” You spoke softly, unsure if he could even hear you over the violin.  
  
“No-no-no, you are just fine,” Katnul insisted as he put a hand on your cheek. “Everything is fine. You’re not sick.”  
  
Katnul appeared completely distraught as he looked down at you. A deep anxiety was building within him, and you could tell he was breaking down. He tilted your head, so you could see Data.  
  
“You see, even your friends are playing now,” he soothed. “We can all be friends now. No one has to be alone. No-no, now sing!  
  
Katnul harshly put you onto your own two feet and let you feel the weight of your own body as you stood at center stage nearing complete collapse. The violin rang in your ears as Data grew closer, and you tried your best to hum the tune, to go along with the game. You looked back at Katnul, but you could hardly recognize him anymore. He looked nothing like your father now.  
  
As you hummed the melody, you were overtaken by a fit of coughing. You couldn’t stop. Your throat seized and swelled. You were choking on the air now. Your eyes met Katnul’s for the briefest moment as you fell forward. There was a screeching sound and a bang as Data dropped his violin and took you into his arms.  
  
“No-no-no-no-no, please don’t die,” Katnul howled as he knelt beside you. His face was red and slick with tears as he sobbed at your side.  
  
“If you do not end this program now, the Lieutenant will die,” Data said. His eyes flicked to Geordi who was steadily approaching from the back of the stage with his phaser prepared to open fire.  
  
“I can’t. I don’t want to be alone anymore!” He sobbed.  
  
“My captain would never turn away someone seeking refuge, but if you continue this, there cannot be a peaceful outcome.”  
  
The room was silent as Katnul looked upon your face. He had seen this before, he recognized the look in your eye. You were dying.  
  
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” he whispered.  
  
Suddenly the room faded away completely, dissolving into the familiar black and yellow checkerboard pattern of the holodeck. A plume of smoke covered Katnul and he cloaked himself once more. Everything was a blur as the doors to the holodeck opened and Riker’s team rushed in their environmental suits. You were barely conscious now, but you could feel the light hum of Data’s body as he carried you from the room.  
  
“Emergency medical to Holodeck 3” You heard someone say.  
  
“Please don’t die. Please, don’t die. Please, don’t die.” Katnul’s voice was the last you heard as you felt your body become completely weightless and were transported to sickbay where you quickly lost consciousness. 

-

“Personal Log, Lieutenant Y/N.  
  
I lost consciousness for a short time, and over the next few days, I will need hypospray treatments to heal the scar tissue formed on my lungs from the sulfur dioxide. Dr. Pulaski said that Geordi and I are set to make a full recovery, and there should not be any permanent damage. I’m feeling much better already.  
  
Katnul has been confined to a habitat where he can breathe normally. The captain agreed to bring Katnul to a nearby starbase where he can live in the stations holodeck and help researchers learn more about his cloaking ability. It’s not the most ideal ending to all this, but at least this way, he won’t have to be alone anymore and he’ll be able to interact with people in a way that he chooses.”  
  
You paused your recording for a moment and leaned back in your chair. You were thoughtful for a time as you looked around your empty quarters.  
“I know I don’t owe him anything, but for some reason, I feel like I need to say good-bye to him. It’s strange, but I think we are more alike than anyone really knows. It gets lonely out here among the stars.

-  
As you entered Katnul’s quarters, you felt a wave of heat. A glass barrier stood before you as soon as you stepped inside. The barrier kept the noxious gases from spreading outside of the room.  
  
“Katnul,” you questioned. Without the holodeck program in place, he did not want to reveal himself.  
  
“I am here,” his disembodied voice called to you.  
  
You peered through the glass searching for him.  
  
“I wanted to come by and say thank you,” you said.  
  
A glint of light fluttered.  
  
“Thank me? I nearly killed you,” he retorted, “I don’t believe I have done anything deserving of your thanks.”  
  
You swallowed hard and clenched your fists.  
  
“I’m sorry, that you were so alone for so long.” You audibly sighed at the magnitude of such a fate. “I can’t even imagine what that’s like,” you said as you stepped toward the glass wall. “Before I came here, I lost a lot of people, and I haven’t quite processed it all yet.”  
  
You could feel the heaviness of Katnul’s eyes on you from somewhere in the room, though you could not pinpoint where.  
  
After a moment you continued, “I thought I wanted what you had. I thought I deserved the loneliness I felt. I thought I deserved to be exiled on some distant planet somewhere, somewhere I could never be found.”  
  
You shook your head. “Maybe I do deserve it, but you made me realize that I don’t want that anymore. I’m tired of trying to keep everyone at bay because I’m too afraid of losing them,” you cried as you bowed your head.  
  
A somber silence hung in the air.  
  
“My friend, do not hang your head.”  
  
You heard a clicking sound on the glass. Tears stung your cheeks as you looked up. A large frightening figure stood just on the other side of the barrier, peering down at you with strange, hypnotic eyes.  
  
“Please, do not be afraid,” he said as he breathed a thick plume of smog.  
  
“I’m not afraid, Katnul.”  
  
You wiped your eyes and placed your hand where Katnul’s rested on the other side of the glass. You could feel the warmth of the sulfur dioxide emitting from him.  
  
“My friend, loneliness is the sacrifice you make to acknowledge that the people you loved were real,” he said, “And I will carry the weight of you with me always.”  
  
You smiled tearfully as you commiserated over your shared longing and exchanged your good-byes, knowing full well that good things were on the horizon for both of you. You left Katnul’s quarters with a new sense of purpose and resolve. There was somewhere you were supposed to be.

-  
You stood outside Riker’s quarters looking at the door as you tried to bury any fears that still remained. You readied your hand at the bell and took a deep breath.  
  
“Lieutenant,” A startling voice came from behind you.  
  
You felt like you jumped out of your skin as you turned to see Data. You swore he moved silently like a cat.  
  
“Commander, you snuck up on me,” you said, letting out a deep breath and patting his arm.  
  
Data’s eyes flicked to his arm and then looked back at you. He tilted his head to one side. “I apologize, I will try to be louder in my approach next time,” he assured you with a familiar smile.  
  
“It’s alright; I was just lost in thought,” you told him as you turned back to look at the door. You could hear the laughter inviting you in from the other side.  
  
Data watched you for a moment as you neglected to ring the door. A perplexed wonder played across his otherwise stoic eyes.  
  
“Shall we enter together,” he suggested as he placed his green poker-player visor atop his head.  
  
You gazed up at him and for some reason, his otherwise cold, piercing eyes filled you with a sense of calm.  
  
“Yes. I’d like that.”  
  
He nodded and rung the bell.  
  
As the door opened, Riker was right at the door ushering you inside.  
  
“Come in, come in,” he said as the ever-hospitable host, clapping you on the back affectionately.  
  
“It’s good to see you,” Deanna said as she crossed the room and pulled you into a warm and quick embrace. “I was afraid you and Geordi weren’t going to feel up to playing this evening, but you both made it!”  
  
“Feeling alright, Lieutenant?” Geordi’s voice came from the card-playing table in the middle of the room. He sat beside Worf at the table, looking at you through his visor with a welcoming grin.  
  
“Much better...in large part, thanks to you,” you said as you all filed in around the table.  
  
“That’s just what we do here on the Enterprise,” Geordi said playfully shrugging off your compliment.  
  
“Alright, what’s the game, Data?” Riker asked as he slid over a deck of cards to the android and took a sip of his drink.  
  
Data’s hands moved with perfect precision as he shuffled the cards.  
  
“The game is Follow the Queen,” he said and began dealing cards to each player.  
  
Worf huffed and Riker immediately started howling with laughter. Deanna leaned toward you and patted your hand.  
  
“Worf has yet to win at this game,” she said, filling you in on the joke.  
  
You chuckled. “It’s okay, I’m not good at cards either.”  
  
“Ah, watch it, that’s what they all say,” Riker said pointedly at you. “I’m keeping my eye on you, Lieutenant.”  
  
The cards were dealt in front of you, waiting eagerly for you to pick them up. You looked around the table as each of the players considered their hands. You couldn’t help but feel swallowed up by the warmth of the room as you looked at them. For the first time in so long, you felt seen by someone else. They didn’t see you the way you saw yourself. They didn’t see a monster or someone deserving of punishment. They saw you just as you are. It was something that you didn’t know you needed, but there they were welcoming you into the fold. You decided right then and there, that their kindness would no longer be wasted on you, and that you would embrace this process with everything you had, no matter the outcome.  
  
You took your cards in your hand and were thoughtful of the possibilities that lay before you.  
  
“Lieutenant, I believe it is your turn,” Data said from across the table.  
  
All eyes were on you, anxiously awaiting your next move. As you peered back at each of them and considered them carefully, you knew, without any doubt, you were all in.


End file.
